


Star Wars: A Forced Existence

by TangentTwo



Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: Cannon Characters will surface but may not be the main subject of the scene, Cannon depiction of species based discrimination, Cult Depictions, Gen, Light Side and Dark Side subtle changes, More Believeable depiction of comabt, Polotics, SWTOR playable characters may appear, Slavery, Slow Burn, Torture... no light torture but baaad torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2019-01-24
Packaged: 2019-09-06 11:58:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 27,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16832182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TangentTwo/pseuds/TangentTwo
Summary: What is a Padawan to do when everything they've ever know was torture, murder and blind-less loyalty to a power they wish to run from? His journey will take him to many worlds, facing many enemies and making choices that will affect the galaxy as a whole all to fulfil his purpose.





	1. Chapter 1

Tython | Centaxday 28th - 11th Month | 3653 BBY (Before Battle of Yavin) | 0 ATC (After the Treaty of Coruscant)

An air surrounds the large temple, nestled next to a mountain and covered by a thick forest save for the rather large courtyard. Hidden, to all who would wish the inhabitants misfortune, at least that is what they tell those ready to take their trails. Many souls fill the courtyard, none looking the same, yet all united in the goal to either become a member of the Order in earnest or to offer guidance to the former. From a few small training fields to a central path to the building, souls practise with a saber in hand.

The temple itself rests as a backdrop to the activity. A place of learning and of great knowledge. Its architecture is simple but exudes a rare beauty that can come from only a place devoted to upholding peace. Banners drape at either side of the entrance, the symbol of the owner's on a backdrop of blue. Various statues rest atop the buildings many levels, each of a different Master or Hero of the Order. One soul finds themselves looking over the entrance with uneasy green eyes, his emotions unclear but he is certainly not calm. He fidgets with his hands as they rest at his side, his mud brown cloak rustling as he does so.

He continues to stare for what seems like hours as those around him go about their day, never once moving a single muscle. However, he is soon shocked by a hand resting on his shoulder. The owner of the hand is in his early forties, the grey streaks in his hair and the wrinkles in his face a hint. Cold blue eyes lock with the restless green of the younger man's, a smile forming on the elders face.

"Aralus, you seem nervous child?" The assumed Aralus looks away, back to the symbol of the very Order he is a part of. He holds it there for a short time before returning it to the elder. "Don't be, you passed your trial's with a great adherence to the Order's code. The Council will see this and you will be made a Knight of the Order, but more importantly, be given the honour of crafting a lightsaber." The elder man rustles about his auburn cloak for a few moments, searching for something with his right hand. It doesn't take long for him to find what it is he looking for. "Take this, it shall serve as the crystal for your saber, a keepsake of my own Master's."

The elder man holds out the crystal, letting the light hit it to show it's colour to his padawan. Aralus reaches for the deep purple crystal, ever cautious for some unknown reason. "T..thank you Master Naren, I shall keep it safe." He pauses as he places it away in his own robe. "Are the council expecting us?"

"They are, Aralus. Let us not keep them waiting, Master Tal will wish to talk to us after you are knighted." Naren answers, gesturing for his padawan to enter the great temple.

Both men slowly enter the huge arched entrance of the temple, the orders regalia all around them alongside even more statues of previous Masters. As they continue through the entrance, they are greeted with the grand hall. A large circular room and the main point in which the occupants enter all parts of the temple, including the upstairs. Two extravagant staircases circle around the room in opposite directions, both ending directly opposed to the Council chambers.

The closer the young padawan gets to the gilded doors, the more uneasy he visually becomes, shaking slightly as they take the final few steps. His master looks to him and smiles, though it does nothing for Aralus, pushing open the grand chamber doors. The master leads his padawan inside, striding deftly until only a few meters away from a large circular table that houses an inbuilt holoprojector. Seven seats are scattered around one half of the table, each filled with a robed figure bar one. Naren catches this and seems to lose him compose for a second.

Seeing the Council, Aralus stops short of his Master. His eyes dart from figure to figure all while his heart begins to beat faster and faster. Before he can even speak his vision begins to blur and he falls to his knee. A small amount of chatter begins as each figure watches. For a few minutes, they wait but a few begin to become restless and start the proceedings.

"Master Naren, is your padawan okay?" A soft-spoken voice offers concern for the boy, her gaze stuck on him.

The master looks to Aralus then back to the female council member. "Yes, Master Satele, he is simply nervous." Naren proceeds to walk over to his padawan and pull him up, yet as he does he whispers something. "Get it together, Aralus, or would you prefer another one of our private training sessions?"

The threat was not lost on the young man, using what strength he can to push off of the Master and stand himself upright. "I'm sorry Master."

Both make their way to the spot Naren left to help Aralus. The council now more intrigued than before, yet few among them were annoyed at the time wasted. "Now, shall we proceed with the meeting?" All the Council members nod their heads, as do Naren and Aralus. "Good. Padawan Aralus Straden, you have been summoned before the Jedi Council because you have finished your trails. We commend you on that… but we are unfortunately unable to allow you the title of Knight. However, I'm sure you and Master Naren know exactly why this is."

Before either Aralus or Naren can speak, a team of commandos burst in from the gilded doors behind them. On top of the Republic's finest, each Jedi Master on the council draw their respective lightsabers and leap to surround the two Jedi. The two act on instincts and draw their own blades, a practise saber for Aralus and a cyan blue lightsaber for Naren. For an instance all was calm as the hum from the sabers fills the air, each contemplates their opening move. The first to act, however, is Naren. Conjuring as much of the force as he can, he sends a shockwave out from himself. Its effects are little on the Jedi, merely pushing them back a few meters, whereas the Republic commandos are sent flying and only stop when they come into contact with the gilded doors.

Seeing an opening, Aralus acts without thinking and charges at the commandos. Within a single moment, he is upon them and in the next the few closest lie dead. A practise saber only in name as if wielded by a good duelist, even the weekend vibrations could be fatal. With his Padawan engaged, Naren charges the fledgelings of the council. He knows that the more tenured members would prove a nuisance and perhaps even beyond him in skill. His leap is long and he lands next to a Twi'lek Jedi Master, her blue lightsaber held in a defensive manner. Both blades clash and send a deep hum throughout the room.

Blows are traded between the two, neither one the superior in pure skill. Seeing this, Naren employs a small manipulation of the force, pulling one of the many chairs in the room into his opponent. As he had anticipated, she senses the ploy and spins to slice through the object and thus prevent her death. Yet, her focus is her downfall, her turn leaves her back open for just enough time for Naren to augment his body with the force and thrust his saber into her heart. Her death rattle is heard throughout the room, catching the attention of Aralus who's now done with the Commandos.

Seeing his Master outnumbered, an internal struggle begins. Arulas knows he has to help his master, or fear being punished severely, however, the constant punishments for simply making the slightest mistake, fights the notion of help. His pause is not lost on the Jedi Masters and the most senior of them, the woman who spoke ahead of the attempted arrest leaps over Naren and lands only a few meters from the padawan. The duel-bladed lightsaber held in her left hand is not lost on Arulas, something he can not hope to stand up to. Seeing no other option, though, he charges at the Jedi Master, but he does not reach her. His vision fades before he can stop it, falls onto the council room floor, the battle's outcome lost to him.

* * *

Undisclosed Republic Base | Primeday 2nd - 7th Month | 3652 BBY | 1 ATC

Three fully armoured men stride down a pristine white corridor, with a final man dressed in a rather formal uniform ahead of them. Turn after turn the men continue with the vigour and intent in their steps never wavering. After a few more turns and short corridors, they reach a blast door with a guard at either flank. On arrival, the guards stand to attention and salute the formal man, who from appearances alone must be an officer of sorts.

"Major Aldir Ving, are you here to see the prisoner?" One of the guards questions, returning from attention.

"Yes I am, The Republic still do not have the answers that man posses. A grisly business but I will ensure to activate the sound dampeners for you." The Major answers the subordinates query as he watches him go through the process of opening the doors.

"Thank you, Major, the medical staff are attending to him as we speak, so I am sure they are ready for you." A final salute from the guards as they return to their posts as the Major and his bodyguards pass through the blast door.

Once through the doors automatically begin their closing procedures and close within a few seconds. The Major and his retinue increase their pace, ever ready to finish with their mission, one that he has had to repeat for over seven months as the prisoner refused to give in to the torture he had received. They had tried everything, from conventional means permitted by the Republic to means only the Strategic Information Service are allowed to conduct. The very fact he simply shrugged it off was getting to the Major.

Soon enough they were at a final door, this one was as well guarded as the blast door, with a guard on both of its flanks. These guards, however, were commandos from the Republic's very best special forces team. No words are shared as they open the door for the Major, doing so quickly and efficiently before saluting as he again passes through. The sight inside of the door is medical, to say the least. From the Kolto tank at the very back of the room to all of the medical instruments that lay around. Two medical staff move around the room from instrument to instrument, talking to one another as they check the prisoner's vital signs. The Major ignores them and ganders at the man inside of the Kolto tank.

He is wearing little, from a sith-like mask that covers all but his mouth and the bottom of his nose to pads all over his body. The ones on his muscles larger and pulsing visually every few seconds. As is standard when inside a Kolto tank, he is equipped with an oxygen mask to keep him alive in the gel-like liquid. A last piece of clothing covers his genitals. Aldir looks at him for a few moments, taking in each and every scar the man posses on his upper body. Around ten in total remain from previous torture sessions, none no bigger than a few inches yet easily seen even through the blue Kolto.

Another minute passes and both medical staff stand next to the Kolto tank, pressing various buttons on the two screens to begin the process of emptying the tank. "Major Aldir, the subject has recovered from the last session, and is ready for the next." The medical staffer looks back at the screen and starts to read off his vitals and other information. "Subject Arulas is still in perfect health thanks to the kolto and state of the art muscle stimulators. All wounds have healed this time, but he has not awoken since your last session. Shall I administer the anti-sedative?"

"Do it, and prep the containment field. Set it to maximum force." The Major returns, sliding a few feet away from the now fully drained Kolto Tank.

The subject's body drops to the floor without the presence of the Kolto, leaning against the side of the tank. Both medical staff begin to input codes into the consoles, causing the release of the tank which retracts into the compartment above it. The body falls back and remains in a position against the far wall. A nod from Aldir sets one of the medical staff on another task. They grab an injector from the small table positioned just to the side of the consoles, a pale yellow liquid flows inside of the vial attached. Taking a knee, the medical staff places the injector on the subject's arm and injects the substance into him.

It doesn't take long for the drugs to take effect waking the subject, who makes a groggy groan as he pushs himself into a sitting position in the centre of the retracted tank. Wasting no time the Major sends another nod to the medical staff who activate the containment field which in the blink of an eye starts up and surrounds the subject. The hum of the new found cage echos around the room, the subject, however, begins to tense all of his muscles at once. Slowly he picks up his head and looks directly at the Major who has moved closer to the tank.

"Major… Aldir." Arulas seethes through his greeted teeth while slowly placing his hands onto his knees. Pushing down slightly as he continues to keep his muscles tensed. "Is it… that time already?"

The Major smiles, glad to be recognised by his prisoner. "That it is Arulas, though you seem to be coping very well under the field. A pity that its unable to shock you, but I'm sure we can procure a far stronger one in the coming days… unless you are finally willing to part with the knowledge we desire?" Arulas smiles forcefully as he continues to endure the pain of the containment fields second feature. A lethal and continuous shock. "A no it is then…" The Major pauses for a moment. "Perhaps a less… Republic method is necessary."

A bigger smile creeps onto the face of Arulas. "Seven months, Major. I did wonder when you'd finally drop the act and return to your… roots." All of the white drains from the Major's face as he stares at his prisoner. "You seem confused Major, and I can imagine why. How did a Jedi padawan figure out your little secret? Well it-"

Before the subject can finish his mocking the Major snaps from his confusion and barks orders at his subordinates. "Bypass the Republic limiter on the containment field and continuing raising its power!"

Both medical staff leap to work, the new tone of Aldir enough to spark a brand new level of work ethic. In mere moments the hum of the containment field turns into a much louder hum with crackles and snaps of electricity. As every moment passes, the power let out by the field increases and the results are clear. The subject begins to roar in pain, his skin receiving slight burns in random areas from the crackling shocks. Within ten minutes the field was at quadruple it's limited power output. The very mask that keeps Arulas' vision restricted begins to deform simply from the current coursing through it.

Another ten minutes pass and aside from the even more erratic yells of pure pain from Arulas, smoke starts to fill the gaps in the room. At first, it was a light grey but with each second it darkens, causing the medical staff to turn to the Major.

"Major, the containment field cannot keep this up much longer. If we don't return it to below the limit the field will drop and the subject may be able to flee." The tone of the man's voice is one filled with fear and worry. Two emotions he hopes the Major will share.

Aldir clicks his tongue and pulls out a small blaster pistol from a holster on his right leg. "Fine, lower the power of the field and administer a sedative when the field is low enough for an injecter round to pass through."

A nod of acknowledgement comes from the medical staff as they interact with the now sparking consoles. Gradually the crackling of the field returns to its subtle humming sound, with Arulas' roar of pain subsiding alongside it. Yet, before he can return to mocking the Major or even utter a word, an injector blaster is prepped and aimed at the subject. The round is fired at him and passes through the containment field with little effort, piercing Arulas' skin and injecting the light yellow liquid. A final smile passes over his lips as the formula acts quickly and pushes his already fading consciousness from him.

His body begins to fall, just about to touch the containment field as the Kolto tank retakes its place around the prisoner. The hum of the field dissipates and soon enough, blue gel-like liquid begins to fill the tank again, the oxygen mask automatically reattaching itself to Arulas' mouth.

* * *

Undisclosed Republic Base | Taungsday 29th - 4th Month | 3651 BBY | 2 ATC

The white room where Arulas rests in his Kolto tank is full, and the door is open. With the Major and his two medical staff are figures who do not fit in. Both wear brown robes of varying shades and an air lingers about them. One of knowledge or utter calm, no one could tell, but one thing they are able to see is that they are from the Jedi Order. One is taller than the other, however, both are human like the Major. What they are doing in the same room as the Major's pet project is something he intends to find out.

"Master Jedi, how may I be of service?" Aldir bows slightly as he speaks, thinning the answers in his own mind. The very fact they know about this station means they were given access, but the purpose escapes him.

Of the two Jedi, the taller of the two steps forward. "Major Aldir, we have come to transfer the prisoner on the order of Chancellor Dorian Janarus and Grand Master Satele Shan of the Jedi Order." He pauses and presents a holotablet with a document already ready to view. "I ensure you will find everything in order."

Aldir peruses the document, reading it in full before handing it back to the Jedi. "As you said, everything's in order." A sigh escapes his lips, the meaning behind it obscure to all but the Major himself. "Release the Kolto and have the tank secured. Guards, come in and prepare to restain the subject if he is no longer under our sedatives."

Two guards come hulking through the open blast door, their armour white in colour with orange accents. Bulky and meant for the heaviest troopers on the battlefield, the guards only stop when at either flank of the Kolto tank. Just in between the medical staff and their consoles, and the prisoner. A nod to show they are ready is enough for the medical staff to begin the process of draining the kolto from the tank, a process which takes only a few moments before the once floating body rests against the side of the tank.

As the tank raises, one of the guards places his weapon over his back into its holster and produces a set of hand restraints. However, before he can place them onto the prisoner, two things occur. The first is the sudden waking of Arulas, a roar escaping his maw as he uses the force to both simultaneously push all in the room back while pulling the two Jedi's lightsabers to himself. Glass shatters as the consoles smash into the medical staff, the guards find themselves pinned to opposite walls, the Major hits the side of the blast door while the Jedi are only pushed back slightly. Yet, they are in awe that a lowly padawan was able to disarm them. The second is the subtle hum that, through the chaos, sets the tone of the next few moments.

Arulas stands upright, a lightsaber held in each hand with a backwards grip. The left is blue while the right is yellow, the blade of a guardian and the blade of a sentinel respectively. With a couple of slight movements, the pads that are attached to him are pulled off and fall to the floor, no longer necessary. A single loincloth and the mask he dons is all he is left with, as he stares down the two now weaponless Jedi.

His glare changes from Jedi to Jedi before a hysterical laugh escapes his maw. "Nearly two years, it took the damned Naren two years to find me… I expected better from that guttersnake." His words are merged with his bouts of laughter, only a subtle undertone of hatred present. "Tell me, Jedi, where is that Bantha fodder?"

The Jedi take up their respective combat styles, though without their lightsabers it would seem like any other stance. Again the taller of the two takes the role of speaker. "Don't speak ill of the late Master Naren Droma! You outcast trash!"

"Late Master?" The laughter grows in volume until it is the sole thing heard by all present. "That scum got what was coming to him. I would have loved to have done it myself, but I guess you will have to sate my lust for blood for now."

Both Jedi take his threat seriously, enough so that they begin to edge towards the blast door. Though the door will provide them with zero help, even closed now that their lightsabers are no longer theirs, but it should provide them with ample time to reach help. Without looking to one another they both use the force to augment their bodies as they launch for the door. With ease they both pass through, the taller of the two sends a force blast down through the door to hold Arulas so the door can shut. Which the other of the Jedi sets about doing.

Flying backwards, Arulas hits the wall behind him with a decent amount of force. Unable to fully ward off the blast in his current state. Slowly and surely he paces across the small room while the blast door begins to close. Soon enough he stops, letting the door close before him with a sadistic smile over his features. The hum of the sabers fall silent as they retract back into their hilts. Arulas looks around to room to find everyone still out of it, however, the Major begins to come around.

Pushing himself into a sitting position, Aldir wipes the dust from his eyes and looks around the room with a confused expression. His vision blurred from his loss of consciousness, it takes him a few looks to realise just what situation he had found himself in. He keeps his gaze on the knocked out troopers for a moment, fear slowly etching itself onto his face, next he looks to the medical staff who lay under both the troopers and the medical consoles. His fear soon turns to unadulterated fear, unable to move from his position as soon as his eyes lock with Arulas' behind his mask.

"Y..you… how did you escape! This should not have happened!" The Major screams at Arulas, trying to coax his body to move, but to no avail.

No retort or sick joke comes from the prisoner. Arulas is happy to laugh as he turns his back from the Major and looks upon the unconscious guards. Of the two, one is a similar size and build to him, a lucky coincidence as he is in need of new clothing. Slowly he strides over to the guard, taking his time with each step. To him, the guard was light and easy to manipulate, pulling them off of the consoles and into the centre of the room. Piece by piece he is stripped of his armour and eventually the uniform he wore underneath. Without so much as a second wasted he places the trousers, shirt and boots on.

With his new clothes acquired, Arulas turns to the pieces of armour he placed around the, still out of it, guard. As is the Republic standard, the armour was modular to give the wearer the advantage in all climates and terrain. Easily able to add extra armour or take pieces away to increase or decrease mobility in favour of defence. Of the armour present, he places on the shin guards first, attaching them to his boots with ease. Next is the thigh plates, which attach just as easily, however, unlike the trooper he took them from, he only uses the lightest part of the plate. The Kama and belt are next, which he straps around his waist before checking over the various devices and utilities on it, after which he places the lightsabers on. For his upper body, he goes with minimal armour, only using the lightest plates for his chest and back as well as upper and forearm. Last but not least is the mask, the mask used to keep his vision blurred. With a hand on each side, he pulls with all of his might. The mask returns by crumbling under the pressure and soon enough snapping in two to reveal his ungroomed features.

Now dressed and armoured, Arulas pushes all of his hair back and holds it behind his head. With his second hand, he pulls a small vibro knife off of his new belt and slashes through the hair. Letting go his hair keep it's position in a semi-groomed slick back style, close to his original look before his imprisonment.

Arulas turns his attention back to the Major, everything else ticked off of his list. Once his gaze locks with Aldir's, however, the major begins to panic and exude more fear than before. "Tho...those eyes! They were not like that before… what did you do?" His screams are met with a simple yet sadistic smile from his former subject.

A pair of deep yellow eyes pierces the Major's soul. "Oh Major, I have done nothing. You, on the other hand, have committed a heinous act… killing everyone aboard this Republic station and then killing yourself." Arulas clicks his tongue as he lifts his hand to face the Major, who soon enough begins to float and move into the circle that indicates where the Kolto tank rests. "Trapping yourself in the very prisoner's cell right after you let him escape, what made you do it? Hm? What incentive were you offered by the Empire?" A dark laugh exits his maw as he drops Aldir on the spot. "It must have been great if you offered your own life for it."

Again and again, Aldir tries to force his body to move, even an inch but it fails him. "You monster! You-" Before he can finish his sentence the containment field hums into life and his words are replaced by a scream of pain.

"I might very well be." Arulas returns as he messes around with the broken console. "Aha, here it is." Only a second after he started the machine, the consoles begin to spark and the humming sound grows deeper and more violent. "Well, Major, it has been fun spending this time together, but I am needed elsewhere."

Arulas turns on his heel and drops the console back onto the medical staff. A lone wave to the Major before he begins to muster a large amount of the force into the palms of his hands, only to direct it at the blast doors barring his exit. Within a moment the blast contorts the door outwards, destroying its integrity as well as the door's surroundings. Slowly Arulas exits the small interrogation cell and down the long white hallway. No one stops him as he walks, as no souls are present. An unfortunate circumstance, but one he knows won't last for long as to evacuate the whole station would take a few hours at least. If the station is as big as he expected.

For over an hour Arulas strides down hallway after hallway, collecting supplies from the infirmary all while simultaneously destroying each and everything that crossed his path. Yet, to his annoyance, not one soul had been found in his path and at this point, he had seen over half of the station. Deeply annoyed by this he sets his sight on the station's reactor core. If he cannot find the Republic troopers and Jedi, a reactor meltdown will. However, finding the reactor will take up his valuable time, not that he has a choice in the matter. He had already decided on making the station inoperable, as such to take out two nuisances with a single stroke.

Soon enough Arulas finds himself outside of the engineering section of the ship, with a large ray shield in front of him. Pacing parallel along the shield he takes time to think about how to bypass it and begin the process of a total meltdown. No operable consoles or other simple options offer themselves to him, everything destroyed. Perhaps to keep anyone who would find the station after they evacuate from using it, or it may have been a mistake. It doesn't matter to Arulas as he draws both of his lightsabers, the blades humming into existence. Expanding his observing, he finds the power conduit that runs along the top of the ray shield generator. A smile comes from Arulas as he launches one of his lightsabers at the conduit, the force guiding his blade as it soars through the air and severs the wires before returning to the hand he threw it from.

Slowly, but surely, the shield blinks out of existence. His path now clear, Arulas saunters deeper into the engineering section, looking at each critical system's main consoles. The once small smile on his face grows into a perverse smirk. Breaking into a swift stride, he slashes at each console he passes. Smoke fills the room from each cut, the plasma of the blade making short work of the metal alloy used to house the console's systems. Within only a moment, sirens begin to sound and an automated protocol droid begins to announce that the critical systems are going offline.

'Alert: Critical system failures. All systems offline. All docking clamps unresponsive. Basic life support remaining: thirty-five minutes, standard time.' The droids alert is loud and clear, and just what Arulas had hoped for. Well one of the things, the explosion of the reactor will come later.

Only a few moments after the droids initial alert, all of the consoles lie in heaps and the reactor is in sight. Arulas casually strides over to the large multicore reactor, looking at each part and attempts to determine where to strike it to cause a slow meltdown. His knowledge of station components is admittedly lacking, and not finding what he wants he plunges a lightsaber into two separate parts. One being a core. Without waiting for a reaction to his attack he augments his legs with the force and leaps back out of the engineering sector and begins his hunt for the hangers and docking clamps. Sure his handy work will bring down the station in a matter of minutes.

With his increased pace, it doesn't take long for Arulas to stumble across the entrance to the primary hangers. Slowing his light jog into a stride he slides into the hanger, but as soon as he looks inside he is met with a volley of blaster fire and orders shouted to continue fire at the prisoner. Preferring not to be killed before he can escape, he leaps back from the open door and takes up a position on the wall next to the entrance. A long deep breath exits his lungs as he prepares himself and places a lightsaber in each hand in a reverse grip. With one final breath, he activates the lightsabers and augments his body with the force before he charges at the troopers.

In a nearly artistic way, Arulas charges at the rank upon rank of blaster fire, twirling his lightsabers around. The incoming blaster fire is not the most accurate, yet every bolt that should stay true is intercepted and deflected by the lightsabers in his grip. Some even returning at the troopers who had fired them. Little by little, the troopers fall to their own blaster bolts as their leader continues to bark orders and become more erratic. It doesn't take long for Arulas to clear the hundred or so meters of hangar space in between him and the Republic soldiers. A simple jump over their makeshift defences allows him to land right in the middle of the small group of the men. Shifting from defence to offensive like it is nothing, the twirling lightsabers become more directed and quickly sever arms, legs and heads.

When all nearby are dealt with, Arulas shifts his form again to deflecting any incoming bolts that reach his personal bubble. Another leap and he repeats the process, the plasma blades finding no resistance in any of the equipment the troopers carry. Blasters, armour and even flesh are all severed as if they were nothing but butter. Squad by squad the troopers fall to the blisteringly fast attacks, none trained or even prepared to fight a Jedi, let alone one with a score to settle. Not even two minutes pass before only a lone squad of troopers remains, circled around their leader. Arulas wastes no time and charges at them, their fire easy to deflect. As soon as he reaches combat range, he sidesteps them all and with a great deal of force, placing all of his weight on his right foot. His form shifts before anyone can see it and he blitzes through the group. Once through, he lets the hum of the lightsabers fill the void as the bodies of the last squad and leader hit the floor with a bloody crunch.

All forms of resistance now dead, Arulas lets out a breath he hadn't realised he had been holding. Both lightsabers retract into their respective hilts, their hum leaving a soundless void like existence, before placing them on his belt. Each of his muscles aches from overuse, even if they had been artificially stimulated while he was imprisoned, nothing can compare to actual use. Taking a few moments to rest, the protocol droid sounds thought the station again.

'Alert: Critical system failures. All systems offline. All docking clamps unresponsive. Basic life support remaining: twenty minutes, standard time.' However, unlike the last alert, the droid continues after a brief pause. 'Reactor meltdown in progress, core three's safe temperature exceeded. Estimated time until catastrophic failure: five minutes and seven seconds.'

Arulas smiles at the announcement, but the smile soon turns to a frown. He's severely cut his time to find passage off of the station down, with both Jedi still alive. Instantly he begins to sprint towards another exit from the hanger, one directly under a sign that reads 'Docking Clamps this way' in Republic basic. In a matter of moments, he crosses the hanger and continues to dash down the hallway to his destination. Unexpectedly, there are no troopers in his way, not a single squad. He speculates that the only resistance was what he faced in the hanger, the Republic must have thought that would be enough. How wrong they were.

Near the end of the hall, a single turn comes into view. Seeing this, Arulas slows his pace, stopping just short of the corner itself. Unlike his rash charge into the hanger, he rests his back against the wall and slowly moves closer to the corner. Trying to keep himself hidden from any potential dangers while he observes whatever lays down the next hallway. Looking just around the corner reveals nothing but the two Jedi that came to take him back, though he doesn't act just yet. He continues to observe for a few seconds, knowing that the scene could change for the worse. However, as he watches he reminds himself of the imminent meltdown he caused. At the reminder, he reequips himself with both lightsabers and augments his body with the force.

The pair of Jedi both recoil at the sight of the prisoner and ready themselves, however, one looks back to the airlock behind him. Without warning the airlock shuts tight, both Jedi content with the outcome they counter charge Arulas. Force blast after force blast comes from the Jedi, each one barely dodged by Arulas while he keeps on track. Soon enough the three are only a few feet from one another. Taking the initiative, the Jedi stop and start to conjure the force in their palms ahead of sending at the ever closer threat. Too close to dodge effectively, Arulas activates both lightsabers and channels the force deeper into his legs, surging into the air directly at the blast and both Jedi. His blades held backwards as he spins.

The blasts sails at Arulas, hitting him with all of the force they conjured. However, the spin of his leap and his body augmented with the force is able to lessen the effect, as every force user is taught. Force counters force, which is why Jedi are taught to face each other with saber combat alone. Landing right in front of the two, his switch to offensive is far quicker than before, an internal lust for their blood fueling his actions. Within barely a moment, over ten slashes are made at the two, all connecting to varying degrees. The taller of the Jedi, however, is able to block each blow with his hands alone, while the second slumps to the floor, and prepares a second quick force push. Which connects with the Arulas' torso and sends him back down the hallway, though still on his feet.

The taller Jedi huffs and puffs from the exertion of blocking a lightsaber with the force. A hard thing to do for even the most seasoned Masters, yet one sentinel's are adept at. "How the hell is a failed padawan so damn strong!" His venting causes a perverse smile to form on his opponent's features.

Arulas regains his balance as he comes to a stop, his smile and piercing yellow eyes locked onto the Jedi. "A vendetta against those who wronged you can cause quite the emotional reaction!"

"So you have fallen to the dark side? To think Master Naren had such high hopes for his padawan, but if this is that prodigy than he must have been blind!" The Jedi hisses out before trying to centre himself. "I will remove the stain on his legacy."

For only the slightest moment, all things seem to stop for both the Jedi and Arulas. Their breaths and the hum of lightsabers, the only thing audible to them. As soon as the moment came, it was shattered by a shockwave of force sent forth by the Jedi. The blast roars down the hallway, deforming and contorting the very alloys it's made from. Witnessing the tremendous wall of force coming for him, Arulas places his hands out in front of him, the blade of the lightsaber retracted. The blast reaches him and suddenly stops, met with a force shield. Each tries to outdo the other, both men reaching into the depths of their powers to overcome the others force and potentially end the duel.

Ten seconds pass and neither back down in the match of force. The strain starts to become obvious on the Jedi, his panting turning to heavy heaving and his ability to stand failing him. Arulas, on the other hand, starts to pant himself, but just as the Jedi is about to fall to his knee he closes both of his hands. In an instant, the hallway changes and contorts inward directly in front of Arulas. The once-engaged separate blasts of force merge and are taken hostage by Arulas as he pulls all the panels, floor tiles and lastly the Jedi, towards him with a great deal of speed. Before then Jedi even realises what has happened he feels a burning sensation all through his chest. He looks down to find a yellow blade of plasma buried deep inside his torso, with a final sigh he turns his gaze back to Arulas.

"Yo...you won't bring down the C...Cult. The light side o...of the force will prevail!" His words are layered with gargle and spits of blood. The bloody spittle landing square on Arulas' face as he begins to laugh hysterically at the Jedi's expense.

The laugh lasts for a few seconds but eventually, it subsides into a sadistic smirk. "You are right, I won't bring them down. I'll eviscerate ever single scion of that pathetic cult, killing all linked to it no matter how little they know."

The hum of the lightsaber dissipates and the Jedi falls to the floor, his body completely unresponsive. Beyond content with two members of the cult dead, Arulas places both lightsabers back onto his belt. He kneels down next to the Jedi and begins to search for positions or anything that could lead him to more of the cult. Of the items, only one stands out, a symbol of some sort, though he does also take the personal holo-communicator. Stashing the device on his belt in an empty slot, he pushes himself back up and starts a brisk stride down the hall. Choosing to ignore the other Jedi's body, he starts to pick up his pace as he looks towards the airlock.

Reaching the airlock, Arulas messes about with the console, trying to forcefully open the airlock and give him access to the ship. Internally he begins to count the seconds as they pass, the ever impending threat of the station cascading into a full-blown meltdown before he can reach safety. That very stress manifests as prompts and a sort of rallying cry to force him to work quicker. Screen after screen passes but the airlock remains shut, however, the screen blinks a final time and reveals the face of a helmetless trooper.

"A survivor?" He questions, though he doesn't look convinced.

Arulas remembers his Jedi training and lets out a large breath. "Yes, the Jedi told me to use the console to contact the ship."

"Where are the Jedi now?" The trooper's question is one Arulas expected, though whether or not they'll accept the answer is beyond him.

"The prisoner used me to show him where they were, I was able to escape as they fought. They were headed for the hanger when I got to this console." Arulas explains in a sort of rushed way, indicative of a scarred civilian.

The trooper takes a few moments to deliberate, while Arulas subtle takes both lightsabers off of his belt. "Okay then, stand back with your hands in the air, we'll let you in when we confirm you're alone."

Arulas does exactly as instructed as the screen blinks off, taking a few steps back while hiding a lightsaber under each of his forearm armour plates. His hands rest in the air above him as the airlock begins to depressurise, slowly but surely opening up for him. The mist of the depressurising clears and reveals three troopers, two equipped with assault cannons on the flanks of the last who wields a blaster rifle. The flanking troopers aim their cannons at Arulas and await any instruction from the other trooper. All three were adorned with the standard Republic armour, a white base with blue accents to denote their legion. The trooper in the middle slowly looks over Arulas, trying to determine if his story was actually true. Though as he is about to speak, the protocol droids alert sounds again.

'Alert: Critical system failures. All systems offline. All docking clamps unresponsive. Basic life support remaining: seventeen minutes, standard time. Reactor meltdown in progress, core three's safe temperature exceeded. Estimated time until catastrophic failure: two minutes and twenty-three seconds.'

Hearing the alert, the trooper sheaths his blaster. "Welcome aboard. Quickly make your way to the hanger with the others we rescued." his voice sounds hurried as he gestures to follow him.

Doing as told, Arulas runs past the two heavily armed troopers and follows the trooper with the blaster rifle. The trooper makes no small talk as he escorts the former prisoner to the hanger of the Hammerhead-class cruiser. It takes less than a minute to reach the entrance of the hanger space, but before Arulas can enter the trooper places a hand on his shoulder.

"Were there any more survivors?" The troopers ask, his voice tone sounds like he's looking for relief, that they've saved all they can.

"I was the last one, I tried to save the others but they were killed by the prisoner." Arulas spins a tale as he drops his head to the floor.

The trooper nods in understanding and leaves Arulas to enter the hanger and wait for departure. However, Arulas knows that departure will never happen, his smile returning to his features as he watches the trooper fade into the distance. The droids alert is the fact for that, the docking clamps that are keeping the ship docked are unresponsive. Nothing short of severing them would allow the ship to leave, and they don't have the time to perform such a feat. A quick glance over the rather large hanger for a ship of this size returns results immediately. Near the other end of the hanger is a small Jedi shuttle, one of the few that come with a hyperdrive. Luckily it's a ship he's had training in since he and his former Master spent a lot of time in space travelling for the cult.

Without stopping to talk to the various figures who eye him cautiously, Arulas strides quickly in the direction of the ship. His mind reminds him of the time constant and he picks up his pace, crossing the hanger in a matter of seconds. The entrance to the starship is open, he'd believe he is lucky if he didn't know luck doesn't exist. He slowly edges up the ramp of the shuttle, looking around cautiously to see if anyone notices him enter. Exactly as he expects, everyone is too rattled or busy comforting others to notice him slip aboard and hit the shuttle ramp and door lock. The ramp retracts within a few seconds and the door slides shut, locking much like an airlock door does, depressurizing when fully locked.

Not wanting to savour the moment, Arulas makes his way towards the cockpit. An easy find as the ship is the exact one he was forcefully trained abroad as a padawan. Three chairs sit in front of the primary viewport, each surrounded by consoles. He takes a seat in the centre most one and begins preparing each system required for launch, as well as the anti-personnel turrets just in case. All the screens flicker to life, the consoles lights turn on as the ship's engines roar into existence. On one of the screens to his left, he can see the externals of the ship, such as the crowd of people now looking in the direction of the shuttle. With an evil smirk, Arulas flicks a switch labelled 'turret auto targeting'.

Four anti-personnel turrets exit the hull of the ship, two below the nose of the shuttle and two at the rear. Each one turns to face any part of the crowd it can directly fire at, but does not fire. A few clicks on the screens and a few command lines imputed and the turrets wire to life and soon enough send bolt and bolt at the unsuspecting Republic personnel. Panic quickly ensues as corpses of the dead are sent flying from the force of the blaster bolts. Others lucky enough to not get hit, cower behind whatever cover they can reach. Troopers soon enough charge into the hanger and open fire on the shuttle, though their small arms are no match for the small shield generated by the shuttle.

The turrets continue to fire while the ship's engines begin to spool up and lift the ship into the air. In the cockpit, Arulas puts in the required hanger codes he found on the top of one of the consoles and gives the ship some throttle. Moving forward slowly at first, the ship exits through the hangers atmosphere shield and once clear, Arulas slams the throttle to max speed. The shuttle rockets from the edge of the Republic cruiser, soon enough creating mile upon mile of distance between the two.

The internal countdown Arulas started in his head reaches five minutes and seven seconds, prompting him to input commands into the consoles. Upon finishing, the screen to his right changes and displays the rear facing holocam, which holds the station in the centre of its view. Not a moment after the station glows bright, brighter by the second before a flash obscures the holocam. His perverse smiles grows as he sets about performing the last few details before he can enter hyperspace. The holocam continues to relay the beyond violent explosion of the station, and a visible shockwave that inches closer to the shuttle faster than the shuttle can escape it.

Not wanting to become space dust from the shockwave's force, Arulas doubles the speed at which he places the information into the nav computer. The wave, only a few hundred meters from the ship, nears the shuttle just as he pulls back on the hyperdrive lever sending the ship hurtling from the current plain and into hyperspace.

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

Hyperspace | Zhellday 30th - 4th Month | 3651 BBY | 2 ATC

Blues of all hues fly past the ships viewing ports as it travels along the hyper lanes, its destination known to it’s pilot alone. Sitting comfortably in the pilot’s seat, Arulas continues to monitor the varying consoles and plan his next move. Out of the Republic base, with zero survivors, his identity is all but secure leaving the entire galaxy open to visit. Of course there are a few exceptions, such as Tython and anywhere with a large contingent of Jedi. With everything going to plan, he allows the ships nav computer to handle the navigation for a while. By all accounts, he stinks, and he is finally able to do something about it.

Given the size of the shuttle, a single bathroom would be onboard, more than likely next to the crew quarters. As Arulas is about to turn his body tenses and on instincts alone he slides out the lightsaber from under his right forearm armour. The hum is heard immediately, with a clash of sabers being heard in the next. A pink skinned woman clutches at her orange bladed lightsaber, trying to force her unsuspecting opponent into submission. Her skill and focus instantly surprise Arulas, but he keeps his composure while remaining stoic, only holding his saber with a single hand unlike the woman, whom has both on hers.

The clash continues for a few seconds, the woman refusing to back down to what Arulas, an intruder in her vessel. Not one to wait, however, He applies as much force as is needed and brings his saber upwards, the reversed griped style prompting the woman to leap back for fear of being maimed. Mid jump a wave of force strikes her and she soon finds herself pinned by the same force to a wall. Her saber extinguishes and falls from her grip, but before it can hit the ground it flings itself across the cockpit into Arulas’ hand. With all of her might the woman tries to escape or overpower the force keeping her in place, but no amount of effort helps. All of her limbs disobey her and she's left to glare at the intruder turned captor.

“Who… are you?” Through gritted teeth, the woman seethes out as she attempts to kill Arulas with her glare alone.

Arulas inspect the woman’s lightsaber, checking for any signs or anything he might recognise. None offer themselves freely, or perhaps there are none there, he doesn’t know nor does he care particularly. “I think you’ll find that the questions are mine, as you are in no state to demand answers from me.” He states, placing the lightsaber on top of the console before walking closer to the woman, his lightsaber still drawn and humming subtly. “Tell me, Jedi, who do you serve?” The question garners a semi-confused look from the female Jedi, though she soon reverts to her glare, her lips sealed. “I only have a limited amount of patience for your lot, now tell me who you serve.”

The Jedi begins to feel the force exerted on her increase as he asks her again. The pain she feels visible on her features, receiving a sick smile in response from Arulas. “I serve… the Jedi and the Republic.”

Arulas smile grows from her answer. “Then you should know, I destroyed the station you were docked at.” Her face drops as she listens to each word. “Not a single survivor, other than you and I. Your masters both fell by my hand, pitiful Jedi.”

At Arulas’ insults at her apparent masters, the Jedi’s features change again and become filled with rage and anger. The force that once bound her to the wall begins to bend to her will, her limbs moving slightly and soon enough she sends the force back at Arulas. At the display, he nearly falls to his knees as he laughs hysterically, the force sent at him blocked by his force shield. Without missing a beat, the Jedi uses the force to pull her lightsaber back into her grip, igniting it and relaunching her attack.

Her form this time is less refined, sloppy at best, her movement is erratic and her vision is solely on Arulas. Flipping the saber around in his hand, Arulas blocks the first fervent strike by the Jedi, and each one after as she attempts to land a blow. Up close Arulas notices that her style is not as sloppy as it seemed, her attacks each landing where she wants them to all while keeping her balance. Ever trying to discern the pattern the Jedi uses, Arulas begins to offer openings in his defence, going as far as to allow an attack that could easily remove a limb. Though as the blade is about to make contact with his flesh he augments his body with the force and slips out of reach. Few more attacks are thrown at him until the Jedi disengages and finds herself back at the otherside of the cockpit. Her attacks were good, but that only increased Arulas’ bloodlust further as he wanted a good opponent, not one weaponless and tired.

Feeling his sanguinary urges rise he for a moment closes his eyes while also taking the second lightsaber out from his forearm guard. The saber’s blade shoots out of the hilt at the exact time his eyes open and in the next instant he is already locked in combat with the Jedi. the hum and clashes of the blades echo around the hull. Arulas’ offence is fast, blisteringly so, as with each swing the Jedi loses ground. A combination of wide slashes with non stop movement and dodges keeps the Jedi on her toes, never once feeling safe or in control. Her style begins to fail her as she is nearly backed right up to the wall she was pinned to. As the cold metal of the alloy wall begins to chill her back, Arulas rises the saber in his left hand and brings it down atop her. Before it can connect she rolls out of the way and posies her saber to thrust. Seeing her maneuver, Arulas parrys the lunge of her saber and brings his free saber to bare upon her, cutting her saber in two ahead of kicking her in the gut.

The strength of the kick flings her across the room and into a console. Her breaths are hard and long as she wraps her arms around her stomach. With his opponent in such a pitiful way, Arulas extinguishes his lightsabers and places them onto his belt with the need to hide them gone. Looking at the fallen Jedi, his smile fades. She wasn’t what he wanted in an duel, but she had skill and potentially answer for him. The latter leads him to leave her where she is and take back up the pilots seat and check on the progress to his destination. For a few hours the Jedi does nothing expect lean against the console she was kicked into, no third attempt or anything. The peace allows Arulas to focus on exiting the ship as they approach their destination, the capital of the Republic, Coruscant.

The Jedi feels the ship drop from hyperspace and looks out of the viewing port. “Coruscant?” Her tone is one of deep confusion. ‘Why would he admit to destroying an outpost of the Republic, then fly to the capital of it?’ Her muse last a moment before she asks him. “Why would you come here?”

“The Jedi Temple… it houses something I need.” Arulas’ response was emotionless, completely stoic in everything from delivery to tone. “As well as an old grudge I intend to end.”

“You’re insane! You’ll never make it out of the spaceport, let alone to the Temple.” The Jedi claims, crossing her arms as she begins to smile thinly.

“You could be right, but if I die, then so will you. After all, you’ll be tagging along as I believe you know more then you let on.” Within a moment, the Jedi’s smile is gone and replaced by a horrified look. Arulas looks at her out of the corner of his eye before focusing on piloting. “Jedi, tell me about this symbol.” He produces the symbol he picked up from one of the Jedi on the station from his belt and tosses it at her.

She recognises it the second it lands in her hands, but as she looks from it to her captor she tries to hide that fact. Only to fail as she realises she’s in no position to lie. “M-my Master’s symbol… it-” She cuts herself off, trying her hardest to not have to say it only to earn a glare from Arulas. “It was how they recognized the others.”

“The Cult of Light.” The Jedi’s reaction is not of surprise but confusion. The name of the Cult was not widely known, not even by some members.

“You… you know of the Cult? How?” Her questions are simple while her tone remains confused.

“Didn’t your Master tell you why you were at the station? A station not on any Republic or Empire map? One hidden from all but those who require access?” Arulas asks her rhetorically as he keeps the shuttle steady as he begins to line up for decent. Before the jedi can respond, the ships holocommunicator fires up and a man appears on it.

The man was dressed in the typical uniform of a Republic officer, his dark skin and horns a sign of his species. “You are enter Courant space, landing codes are required before docking. Transmit them now.” Arulas takes a few seconds to type on console and within a few moments the man on the holo nods. “Thank you Captain, where will you be docking today?”

“Whichever spaceport is closest to the ruined Jedi temple.” Arulas answers dryly while looking at the man.

“I understand, though I must warn you that the temple is off limits to all except those authorised by the Jedi Order.” The Officer informs Arulas before sending a guide to escort the shuttle. “Please follow you alloted guide to the Jedi Temple Spaceport.”

The channel blinks off without anymore words being said between the two. Continuing his entry, Arulas keeps the shuttle steady as the atmosphere is breached slowly but surely. Once through the ships thrusters switch from their primary to the atmospheric thrusters to which the ship rocks slightly from. Neither of the two aboard really take note of the turbulence as a ship passes them and proceeds to maintain a small distance between them. Gliding through the ecumenopolis’ sky, nothing but metal structures and thousands of ships fill the central viewing port. The descent for the most part, is uneventful. The Jedi kept to herself, her emotions barely hidden under her skin as she stares through Arulas. The latter remains wholly focused on piloting the shuttle through all of the other ships while also following the escort. Something that is far easier said then done on Coruscant.

An hour since breaking the atmosphere, the shuttle docks in the mostly empty Jedi Temple Spaceport. Usually it is reserved for Jedi, but since the signing of the treaty that ended the Great Galactic War over two years ago it opened up to the public. Bringing the ship to a stop, Arulas begins to let the landing gear extended, waiting for the console to let him know they are out before bring the ship to a full landing. The landing was not the softest and items placed over many of the flat surfaces in the shuttle clatter and clang as they hit the floor. After a moment the engines being to wind down, and the shuttles door and ramp are activated.

With little warning Arulas stands and strides out of the cockpit and down out of the ship. The Jedi follows behind, almost as if she were corralled by his will alone. It doesn’t take long for the two to leave the spaceport behind them and to find a sub-light shuttle to take them the final distance to the Jedi Temple. The scenery that passes them as they ride in the shuttle varies little and to most eyes it would seem they are going in circles. Skyscrapers kilometers high and buildings littered over the surface, all the same alloy and by proxy colour. Arulas pays little attention, but the Jedi seems rather taken by it, going as far as to gawk at each skyscraper. No others rest aboard the shuttle as it makes its last stop, just on the outskirts of the Jedi Temple. The pilot looks uncomfortable as both of his last passengers make their way off of his ship. Not even waiting for them to be out of view the ship takes off and nearly speeds away from the spot.

The grandness of the temple dawns on the young pink skinned Jedi as she stands completely still in awe. Even in its current state, the temple stood out. Many of the grand pillars that lead up to the temples’ entrance were gone or only half of them remained. The entrance itself is completely caved in, the four large slabs that once hung over it now gone. A minor setback for Arulas, as with a raising of his hand the rubble begins to shake and soon enough float up into the air. With a flick of his wrist he sends the rocks from the entrance and onto the courtyard. Arulas lowers his hand and lets out a short breath before resuming his stride into the temple, a sense of purpose now intertwined with his walk. His forced companion keeps a few feet behind him as she follows suit, he eyes darting from object to object.

The design of the temple resembles the one on Tython to the tee, only the damage from the surprise raid create a difference. A sadistic smirk rests upon Arulas features as he sees just how deep the damage to the temple is, how badly the Jedi suffered when a large group of Sith slaughtered them. His Jedi companion has the opposite reaction and the ruins horrorify her. However, she is not given time to look over it all as Arulas never slows down as he passes through the halls. He didn’t come for the architecture, no, he came for a few reason but first he needed to reach some of the deepest parts of the temple. A task not so easily achieved even with the temple as it is. Floor after floor they scour the temple, finding little but rubble and corpses. Sith and Jedi alike lay restless on the ground, wounds of varying degrees.

Along the way, the pink skinned Jedi tries to strike up a conversation with her captor. “You never did tell me how you knew about the Cult.” she tries to come off as casual, as to not end up forcing his hand.

Arulas doesn’t answer right away, keeping his focus on observing his surroundings. Eventually he responds. “I was a part of the Cult, my former Master was Naren Droma and his Master was Tal Kurn. I’m sure you’ve heard of them, if not I’ll fill you in, they were vile scions of a flawed logic. I’m glad they are both dead.”

The Jedi is shocked by Arulas’ answer, so much so she loses her thoughts and cannot reply. Much to Arulas’ pleasure as it means they can continue without needless interactions. Another few floors pass them by without any progress, which begins to get to Arulas. Near one of the many elevators that run up and down the entire temple, he stops and starts to think deeply on what he can recall of the layout of the temple. To his memory, the lowest levels held what he wanted but, it was once only reachable by a specific elevator only useable by Jedi Masters and Knights. The location of the elevator, however, he cannot seem to remember at all. Bored of the inability to find what he’s looking for, he decides on finding the next thing on his list of sorts.

Not even half an hour later Arulas arrives at his new point of interest, the temples rather well kept forge. A special piece of manufacturing equipment that allows a jedi to craft their lightsabers, though this one is more for ceremony than actual construction. Modeled after the actual forge the ancient Jedi created on Tython, it was created here long ago before the records of Tython were lost to act as a secondary choice. Arulas approaches it with little caution and rummages around the various shelves and cupboards that surround it. It takes him a few moments to find the pieces he is looking for, the basic materials for a lightsaber, or in his case two.

“Keep watch Jedi.” Arulas orders the pink sinned woman as he turns away from her to begin the process of constructing his lightsabers.

Slowly Arulas places each component down, lining them up in the order they need to go together while he rummages his left hand over his belt. The hand produces a ilum crystal, purple in colour but the core was as dark as a black hole. Memories flood into his mind as he looks upon the crystal, the day he was supposed to be knighted, the day he lost his freedom for two years, the day he became who he is now. The pain is obvious as he winces at the recollection, one the Jedi feels through the force as she stands by the entrance with her back to him. Arulas clears his mind, placing the crystal down in the appropriate place before he takes a few steps back to kneel onto the floor and closes his eyes.

For a moment, everything about Arulas is empty. His mind, his soul and even his being, but as quickly as it emptied it is soon filled with the force. The components on the forge begin to rattle faintly at first, then they rattle with a great deal of vigour before lifting up into the air. Each stay arranged as they were on the forge with the crystal in the center. First the power conduit, assemble beforehand, attach itself to the crystal with the magnetic field dampeners covering both. With the crystals housed, the bottom of the saber joins together and connects with the crystal housing, leaving it jutting out slightly. Next, the magnetic coil assembly and the emitter shroud fix together ahead of joining to the crystal housing. With that the internals of the saber lie complete, but soon enough, the outer layer joins with the housing and seals it shut. The various buttons of the casing attach to the appropriate section on the internals and with that his first saber is finished.

Unlike most Jedi made lightsabers, the one Arulas crafts has a more Sith-like take to it. Black being the main colour, representing the darkness at the forefront, while white cracks through as a small accent, showing that inside, there is still a bit of light, hidden away on purpose—it had to be buried, that white light, for his ultimate goal. There could be no reluctance, something that light would bring along with it's kindness. Subtle yet built for purpose as the just above the blade emitter is a sort of guard, one used to keep the users arm safe when wielding in an atypical manner, like Arulas is want to do.

Standing from his position, Arulas slides over to the forge and picks up the newly crafted saber. No clue to how much time has passed, he holds the saber out to his side and ignites the blade. From the emitter comes a deep purple edged plasma blade while the core is a void of darkness. It’s hum is deep with an almost eerie air to it, which becomes deeper as he swings it around as if to mimic its use in combat. It’s weighs a little less than the clunky lightsabers he stole from the Jedi on the station he was imprisoned on, but most importantly, it feels right. It’s sleek outer coating making it easy to manipulate, a must for his lightsaber form.

His second takes less time to construct, having taken apart one of the two lightsabers he stole. The blade ignites and it shares the same deep humm as the first, but instead of a purple blade with a black core, it has a yellow blade with a white core. He does the same again, swinging the blade around to get a feel of it. A sick grin appears on his face as he does so, finally lightsabers fit for his skill and ideals. He places the second newly crafted saber onto his belt, next to the first on his left side. The lone stolen saber rests on the forge as Arulas looks behind him at his Jedi captive before it turns to the lightsaber. Internally he weighs his options and comes to a decision, he picks the lightsaber and strides towards the entrance.

The Jedi notices his presence and turns to look at him. “All done?” Her question is simple, but she is doing all in her power to act casual. She’s already his captive, but she doesn’t want to become his next victim.

“Here, yes, the temple, no. However, you’ll need this.” Arulas holds out the lightsaber to the Jedi. She looks at him, then the lightsaber and then back to him, completely unsure of his motives and confused by his action.

Her hand inches out towards the lightsaber, slowly and surely. The moment her finger touches the cold alloy of the saber she halts all movement and looks to Arulas for any sort of reaction, anything. He offers none, and she takes ahold of the saber and brings it to her chest.

“W-why are you giving me this?” The Jedi questions unsurely as she takes a few steps away from Arulas.

“To protect yourself.” Arulas returns beyond caring, the Jedi had expected as much and it only made her feel more uneasy. “Whether you live or die doesn’t matter to me, but you may have information I want and that means I should at least give you the means to protect yourself.”

The reasoning is clear cut and puts her at ease, well as much as it can given the circumstances. “Thank you, I guess.”

The Jedi places her new saber on her belt where her own once hanged, a reminder she is outskilled and held against her will. Without realising it, Arulas had set off to wherever he is headed as she had been putting her saber away. It doesn’t take her long to catch up and keep pace with him as he takes them deeper and deeper into the core of the temple. The architecture doesn't change as they descend but the air around them does. It starts to become thicker and possess an almost dark feel to it. An hour in all takes them to what appears to be one of the oldest parts of the temple, though the entrance is barred by a door that shares the age of the lowest levels.

The door is deeply rusted and is coated in a deep layer of dust and rubble. The level for the most part free of damage as even the Jedi no longer frequent the level itself, but small signs were there. From small cracks in the beams and architecture and small rocks littered around them. Arulas stops a few meters away from the door, inspecting it with a critical gaze while the Jedi does as she did before, gawking at the temple. To his eye, there is no way to open the door conventually, no sign of a console or even a secondary power unit that could be used to overload the door. It is completely bared to all who want access.

That fact, however, is not good enough for Arulas. He curls his hands into fists and closes his eyes. His breathing slows once his eyes fall shut completely, his demeanor changes and becomes completely blank of all feelings. Over a few seconds his breaths returns to normal and his eyes shoot open all while he changes his stance, throwing his hands up and open. A large wave of force flows from him and assaults the ancient door. Arulas’ focus turns into anger and rage as he continues to send the force at the unmoving door. Not even the slightest hint of damage had been done to the door, no cracks, no bent alloys or even a sliver of a hole. For a full minute he pushes on with the barrage of force, but not even the tidal strength he posses can persuade the door to open itself.

Forced to stop, Arulas recoils and his once steady breaths are faster and slightly laboured. His frustrations suddenly take a hold of him and he charges the door, his new lightsaber slide from their position on his belt and into his hands. Both lightsaber slash vehemently at the door, doing just as little as the force blast did and it only stoke his anger further. After eight or so slashes he leaps back to his original position and deactivates his sabers.

The frustration is evident on Arulas’ face, sweat pooling on his forehead before falling down his temples. However, his will refuses to allow him to leave without opening the door and doing as he came here to do. Again he settles into a stance with his legs wide and his hands in front of him. Unlike the first attempt, he holds his hands out and near each other. Closing his eyes he starts to channel the force into his hands and reaches out to the door. The force takes ahold of both parts of the ancient door, split down the center. Once he feels the hold is enough, he moves his hands away from one another while fighting against the strength of the door. The whole room begins to shake from the exertion of force, the door finally shows signs of yielding. Cracks form along the door’s framework, from little ones already present, larger ones take them over and expand.

Seeing Arulas’ effort, the Jedi runs to his side and imitates his movements. Calling upon her own mastery of the force, albeit far less, she reaches out and latches onto the door. With her added strength the door begins to audiably creak from the stress of two force users. The door doesn’t last much longer once the Jedi added her strength, both sides collapsing into the walls. Loud cracks and rocks falling are heard as the doors disintegrate in their ancient holders. Arulas wipes the small body of sweaty that collected on his forehead before cautiously approaching the threshold of the door.

“Jedi, whatever you do, stay no less than five meters from me.” The warning in direct and she nods to Arulas, herself not completely sure why she’s doing as asked without any confrontation or attempt to argue. “This place holds a power not even I fully understand. Only what it is called, a Force Nexus. However, that is not what I am here for, as there is an artifact that the my former master lusted after.”

“What artifact is that?” The Jedi questions, walking just behind Arulas as they slowly step down the long abandoned hallway.

“A special type of saber crystal.” Arulas makes his answer quiet, almost too quiet for the Jedi to here. Luckily she does, but elects not to ask any follow up questions.

In a solemn silence, the two edge along the long hallways of the deepest levels. The architecture for the first time was completely different, of an age gone by. Arulas doesn’t take much time to inspect it, and neither does the Jedi, both on edge. After a while, they increase their pace slightly and change back to their normal pace still keeping their formation. Thick layers of dust blow around as each foot is placed onto the floor. No sound came from the environment other than feet hitting the floor, not even wing flowing through the temple. The eeriness of their surroundings only prompt them to increase their pace further.

An hour flows by before the two, the ancient portion of the temple proves to be far smaller than the grand temple above them. It has the similarities of the smaller Jedi temples on other planets around the galaxy, meditation shrines. Though interconnected to seem like they are one continuous fabrication. Arulas begins to move faster as they stride down an other long hallway. A glint in his eyes and a sense of satisfaction on his face, he stops outside of another large door. This one is not as large as the first, nor is it as thick but it still finds itself covered in as much dust and cracks as the first.

With a simple pulling back and forcing forward of his hands, the force fires from him and assaults the stone made door. Without so much as a snippet of resistance, the door shatters inwards and the frame collapses from the very ceiling it once clung to. Shrapnel flies in all directions, yet mystically none hit either sole in its arc of fire. With an almost giddy skip, Arulas enters the room. The room was modest, as to be expected from a Jedi temple, a few chairs and tables littered around the room with a couple of shelves to rest whatever the users required. However, right in the center is what Arulas hoped to be the very thing he is looking for.

Instead of walking right up to it, he stops and closes his eyes. Through his mind he reaches out with the force, searching the display cabinet in the very middle of the room he feels a presence. The presenses’ identity hidden by the fabric laid over the cabinet, but both it’s and Arulas’ force begin to intertwine and react to one another. The air around the two begins to darken more than it already was, and the Jedi finds it hard to focus or even breath as she stands so close to Arulas. It’s presence takes a toll on her and she excuses herself to the hallway as the ritual continues. For ten minutes it continues, the aura only darkening as it progresses to the final stages.

No sooner does the ritual end and Arulas open his eyes, does a force surge emit from both the cabinet and himself. All objects in the room are flung away from them and into the walls, as well as the Jedi whose pushed backwards slightly. In his eyes, Arulas seems far more sadistic, his yellow eyes a deeper and darker shade of yellow with a hint of red around the outside. From his belt he takes out his off-hand saber and ignits the blade, letting the hum and yellow light existe for a moment. In the next he extinguishes it and holds it out and lets go. The saber doesn’t fall, instead it hangs suspended in the air by the force. It floats somberly over to the cabinet, which to is now suspended in the air, or more accurately the fabric and whatever the object under it.

Like when it was constructed, the lightsaber separates itself into its individual parts. A few minutes is all it takes for the disassembly of the saber, the yellow crystal hanging in the air in the center. However, it is not to last as it drops from its suspended state not long after it is taken from its housing. The fabric falls from over the last object revealing a dark crimson crystal with a void-like core. Slowly the crystal takes the yellow ones place in the line up, soon becoming the center of the lightsaber’s reconstruction. It takes only a an hour so for the saber to be rebuilt as carefully as it was constructed the first time, its new crystal ready and begging to be unleashed. A feeling Arulas shares as he pulls the saber to him with a renewed vigour before holding to his side and igniting the blade.

A deep hum fills the silence as the blade forms instantaneously, it’s blood red colour only made darker by it’s onyx core. A perverse grin grows on Arulas’ features as he swings the blade around himself, it’s weight somehow even lighter than before. Unlike the former blade, this one had a sense of being, existence. It is not just a lightsaber for his use, it is more, an extension of his own mastery of the force while adding a considerable power to its master. The blade retracts into the hilt and is placed onto Arulas’ belt all while he turns to look at the Jedi, who has barley regained her composure after experiencing the ritual up close.

“One last thing keeps me here, a hidden outpost of the Cults.” Arulas explains, already anticipating the question. Though before he can be actually asked one, he walks in the direction of the entrance they used.

The Jedi follows begrudgingly, the cult is all she’s ever known and to have to follow the man who wishes them harm turns her stomach. She’s had to do things she disagreed with for the Cult, but it was for the greater good, but his whims and actions are the very things she was trained to stop. Finally sick of tagging along, she runs past him and turns swiftly on her heel, facing her captor with a renewed sense of loyalty to her now dead Master.

“No, I won’t let you kill them!” She reaches for her lightsaber, but before she can unsheate it, it flies from her belt into Arulas’ hand.

“You can try to stop me, but your attempts would be futile. You neither know where they are or who they are, but please keep trying if you so wish.” Arulas’ tone is beyond cold, formally-sadistic even. Something his aura mirrors as he holds her lightsaber in his hands. “Tell me, why you protect this cult so fervently?”

“I don’t need to explain myself to you!” Her answer is what Arulas had come to expect from Cult members, however, her actions were not.

The lightsaber in his grip forcefully pulls from him, ever trying to be free of the man. Arulas relinquishes his hold over the saber to which it flies back to the Jedi, yet she does not ignite it, instead she directs a blast of force at the ceiling between them. A medium sized indentation forms as the blast connects with its target, to only be pulled in the next instance. The jedi had closed her hand and pulled it towards herself crating a cave in, the debris falling until the path between her and Arulas was completely blocked. She takes a breath and attaches her saber back to her belt before turning to leave, her pace is rushed as she makes for the surface levels of the Temple.

Once out of sight, the debris implodes and litters the hallway over a hundred or so meters from the implosion. The rubble rains down as Arulas strides through the center of the explosion, his usual perverse smile resting upon his lips. He too makes his way to the surface levels of the Temple, sure of the location of the hidden cultists since his latests clarity of mind. As he walks he reaches out with his mind, searching for any sign of life or that of the Jedi. Without so much as a hint of effort he finds the Jedi sprinting upwards on one of the many staircases, while the signs of life appear far higher in the temple. He keeps his focus on them as he lets his body almost move on it’s own, following the Jedi upwards.

Its takes no longer to ascend the temple as it did to descend for Aruals, while the Jedi was much further ahead. Her running gave her a considerable lead on her captor, and she intends to use it to find her comrades. She always knew the Cult was large, but her Master had never told her just how far it reached. All she knows is that they were all follows of Master Tal’s vision for the Jedi and Republic, a bastion of pure Light in the Galaxy. One that would cleanse the universe of the Dark side of the Force, be it by war or by diplomacy. Upon reaching the foyer where they had entered, she too reaches out with the force to find those she wishes to protect.

Her lead over Arulas fades second by second as she searches for the slightest hint of the force or life force. Knowing her abilities in the force where not the best, as she still had much to learn, she exerts herself beyond her natural limits in order to find any sign. Arulas now only a few floors below her, she manages to find the faintest signal of life near the dormitory wing of the temple. Bringing her mind back to her body she sets off for the dormitory wing without so much as stopping to settle her breathing, which was now laboured and heavy. Yet her will to push on allows her to body to push through the physical strain she had already placed on it.

Her journey is short with the dormitory wing being only a few floors up from the main hall of the Temple. The dormitory wing, as its name suggests, is filled with smaller rooms for the more senior Jedi with larger rooms for Padawans and junior Jedi to share. The decor is spartan at best, with only a few sculptures of some Master Jedi or another and no artwork on display in the hallways. She follows the signal in her mind as best she can but she can only get so close before she finds herself at a dead end. The force she can feel is past a wall with no way to get there, she had already ran around to get to where she is and no single entrance had shown itself to her.

With the time she has running out, her mind races to figure out what she is to do. Arulas had told her the base is hidden from view and the Jedi, but how can she feel their presence if it is truly hidden. Yet, no matter how hard she thinks on it she cannot imagine where the entrance would be. There are too many possibilities and just as she begins to run through them again, hard steps break her concentration. They are slow, methodical in their pacing as they grow louder and louder. She knows that her time has run out as she turns to look down the long brown hallway. Walking down the centre, a single saber in his right hand in a reverse grip, Arulas edges towards her with a look of pure sadism. Seeing no option, she too unclips her saber from her belt and holds it out to her side, pressing the button on its side to ignite the blue blade.

Around fifty paces from the Jedi, Arulas returns in kind and thumbs the button on his saber, a sudden deep hum fills the empty space around him as the purple blade comes into existence. The Jedi swallows once, breathing in a long breath directly afterwards, one she holds as she slides into the Jedi ready stance. Both hands on her saber as she holds it just to her dominant side, right hand over left, her body fluid and her legs shoulder width apart with her non-dominant foot forward. She releases her breath when her form is set, her eyes clear just like her mind is while she stares down Arulas.

Seeing the Jedi ready, Arulas obliges and readys himself. He holds his saber at the top near the blade allowing the rest to hang below his grip, ample room to move his hand down the saber for attacks and to keep momentum while keeping a little of the hilt remains above it to ensure he does not lose a hand. He places his left foot forward and lowers his body slightly, knees only just bent and ready to act, before lastly leaning slightly towards his target. His piercing yellow eyes never leave the Jedi, continuously gauging her subtle movements all while begging her to charge at him.

The stand off dominates the hallway for a minute, the hums of each lightsaber intertwining, the glow of each person's saber lighting them up, the unspoken anger from the Jedi faced with the perverse smile of the fallen one. Any onlooker would flee as the aura they each exude surrounds them, fuelling what they believe to the point of arrogance. No words are spared before they charge, kicking off the ground and hurling themselves together. Their sabres flash and Arulas swings his in a blinding arc with the full might of the force in his blow. The Jedi shifts at the last second, twisting her own weapon and blocking the attack that if it had been successful would've bisected her from hip to shoulder. No momentum is lost as Arulas pushes himself off of the ground, the stalemate between the two broken and the Jedi pushed back as he flies upwards. Losing ground the Jedi regains her composure, knowing full well if she didn't her life could very well end in the next moment. Twirling in the air like a leaf falling from a tree, Arulas flips the saber in his grip, bringing it down atop the Jedi with all of his collective might. Again his blow is halted as the two sabers clash together, sending a resounding crack throughout the hallway.

Focus is all the Jedi has as she pushes back against the malstrom like strength of Arulas, the blades running along one another as the plasma causes ear rupturing screams. For a moment Arulas’ feet touch the ground but in the next he flings his body backwards and out of the Jedi’s reach. Yet, it does not stop her as she pulls the saber to her side, positioning the blades tip at her target. The blade soars through the air, assailed by any resistance as the Jedi too travels with the saber. Arulas predicts the attack and again switches his hold on his saber, placing it between him and the Jedi, avoiding a liver full of plasma as his feet reconnect with the marble floor.

His sadistic smile and sinister yellow eyes lock with the warm purple eyes of his pray, as the blades continue to sing a distasteful song. The two edge closer to one another, but as Arulas’ blade is about to reach her own and destroy her saber along with her chances of survival, the Jedi releases a single hand off of her saber. Bringing the hand across her front with an arc of her unsummoned strength landing square on Arulas’ jaw. It creates little room, yet little room is enough as she uses it to press an advantage. Her blade extinguishes for merely a moment, her hands now above her as she reignites the blade and brings down a arc of her focus onto Arulas.

Not to be outdone, Arulas falls backwards to allow for time to reposition his blade and halt the Jedi’s attack. For the fourth time their blades lock in a plasma orchestra of blue and purple, neither one willing to concede to the other. At least, that is what the Jedi thought as she steels herself, she senses Arulas’ hidden strength, her own morale wavering under the intense aura he exudes as he fights. That split instance of doubt is all it took as Arulas’ smile doubles, his free hand rearing back before springing forward and sending with it a wave of force, unmatchable by the Jedi. Her body tumbles down the hallway, a storm of force binding her limbs in the air as she travels a hundred meters. Crashing onto the marble, her saber is torn from her grip as her body is crushed from the mix of force and stone.

Her body doesn’t stop until another ten meters pass under her, cuts and bruises becoming apparent instantly. Coming to a stop, the Jedi pushes herself up to her knees, looking back down the hallway with her deep purple eyes, Arulas her sole focus as her inner emotions begin to mount. Watching on, Arulas’ once perverse smile explodes into rachhous laughter that takes over the hum of his saber. It doesn’t take long for said laughter to bring him to his knees as he holds his free hand over his face to try and stifle it. Yet with each second it grows louder and louder, filling each crack left in the air with it’s fiendish tones.

In and out… in and out, the Jedi’s breathes grow in weight and emotion, her eyes nearly glazing over with anger. Her face fills with purpose, a singular goal to kill the man in front of her, the man who killed both her master and his comrade sensesly. The thoughts pile on top of one another in her mind, pulling her in every direction it can before she finally snaps. The Jedi’s head snaps backwards and out from her maw comes a shriek filled with nothing but utter pain. It sends a shockwave through the force that careens down the hallway, ripping tiles from the floor and panels off of the cold alloy walls.

Arulas’ laughing fit ends as he senses the all encompassing wave of force sent out from the deeply enraged Jedi. Electing not to move, he positions his arms in front of him in a cross, his lightsaber in front of both, one knee still touching the slick marble. Just as he fully braced himself, the surge of force pummels his natural force shield as well as his mental one. For upwards of ten whole seconds the force refuses to cease, continuously flowing from the roaring Jedi who unknowingly sent forth the outbreak of force. Much to Arulas’ dismay he could not hold his quickly formed shield and as the wave continued he was beginning to be pushed back, while his guard was stripped away leaving him vulnerable. A fact he very much enjoyed as his smile became insanely wide, the laughter may have stopped, but his enjoyment was very much alive.

The wails end just over a minute after they started leaving the air silent except for the deep hum of a lightsaber. Of the two, the Jedi remains in the same position she was in as she sent out a force scream in all directions, completely destroying the hallway and everything around her. So much so a long section of the wall to her left side had all but been obliterated, revealing seven men in republic soldier uniforms staring at her. Each one feeling a different emotion, ranging from horror to shock. On the other hand, Arulas is not where he once was, instead he rests snuggly in the wall at the end of the corridor, bleeding from various appendages as well as his head. The only thing the Jedi could not destroy is his perverse smile.

Pulling himself the impact crater that dents the alloy wall, Arulas’ spirits seem to have raised tenfold. Now, instead of seeing her as an obstacle to be removed since she would not follow as he ordered, he sees her as a potential tool for use against the very cult she works to defend. Her mind is fractured, shattered from the stress his strength of will has put on her, all he needs to do is push that last little flicker of hope from her and she’ll be his to command. The thought titillates the young fallen Jedi’s mind, as he lands easily on the marbled floors, his saber still ignited in his right hand. Slowly he returns to the position he was thrown from, his gaze solely on the Jedi as the onlookers cower behind the little spec of wall left to utilise. Luckley Arulas’ gaze has not turned to them, but unfortunately he does know they are there, not that letting them in on that would make them any less frightened.

Back to his original footing, Arulas makes note of her exact positioning on the ground before he laughs. “A mere weakling in Jedi clothing… pathetic, and I had thought the Cult would offer some means of resistance in the very temple they covert so much.” At the very mention of the cult, the soldiers begin to mermer, though they were short lived at best. “Quiet vermin!” At the proclamation, the remaining slabs of alloy left were ripped from the wall and launched across the hallway towards the opposite wall.

No place to hide, the soldiers hold up their blasters, holding the majority in the direction of Arulas, the biggest threat to their safety. A wise choice, however, the order barked by their leader is not. “Fire you fools! The Temple has been invaded by more Sith!” The Mon Calamari’s oversized eyes blink furiously as he frantically points towards the assumed Sith with one hand, while aiming his blaster pistol with the other.

All but one open fire at Arulas, the super heated bolts of red plasma fling from the end of the barrels. Their velocity faster then the natural eyes can see, closing the short distance between their origin and target within moments. Instead of reaching their target they meet the purple bladed lightsaber as it sings through the air, meeting each bolt just as it should reach Arulas’ body. Once plasma met plasma, the bolts recoil off of the the blade and ricochet, yet they do not fly randomly. The shots return to sender and kill each of the soldiers one by one until only two remain, who drop their weapons in horror of the quick deaths of their comrades.

No sooner are the bodies smoldering on the ground does Arulas leap at the remaining two, a sick smile growing by the moment. A thunderous slash severs the soldier next to the Mon Calamari, both halves of the man joining the corpses on the floor with a bloody crunch. Just as Arulas is about to spear the last soldier with a blade of hot plasma he stops only a few centimeters short of his abdomen. A deep heat emanates from the blade, lightly burning the Mon Calamari’s uniform as he takes the pain in stride.

Arulas looks the alien in the eyes, analysing everything about the man before retracting his saber from in front of the man. Like a predator circling its prey, he lets the hard sound of his boots on the marble psyche out the Mon Calamari. Itching around as they do nothing about him, averting his eyes from the pits of fiery hell that are encased in Arulas’ amber eyes.

After a few rotations around him, the Mon Calamari spoke up with a nervous tremble in his voice. “Identify yourself Sith!”

A chuckle comes from Arulas as he stops in front of the fish head, only a few inches from the mans face. “You are in no position to demand anything of me vermin, however, I am, so tell me, what interest does the Cult have here? Hm? Thousands of years worth of Jedi and Sith holocrons, all ripe for the taking.” The Mon Calamari looks away as Arulas interrogates him as a gulping din comes from his throat. “Answer me!” A roar escapes from Arulas, reaching his hand to the man’s neck, dragging the pitiful alien into the air like a ragdoll.

Air became a scarcity for the Mon Calamari, his long claws digging into Arula’s hands as his vision blurs and his life slowly seeps from his body. “Th...e Cults… activi...ties are n..ot-”

In an instance, Arulas becomes suspiciously calm. The anger gone from view and his smile no longer resting upon his lips as his yellow eyes pierce through the Mon Cal’s skull. However, for all of his apparent calm, his vice-like grip persists and grows tighter with each passing moment he is without his answers. For all his struggling, the Mon Cal’s entire body droops and becomes completely slack, like a dead fish strung up to dry. Instinctively Arulas relents on his grip, just as the body begins to fall to the floor a wave of force sends the body across the hidden room.

A quick wipe of his hand later, Arulas turns to look at the Jedi still on her knees, eyes closed and blissfully unaware and unconscious. More then content to leave her there while he searches the newly found room, a room filled to the brim with crates, weapons and supplies. The room itself wasn’t anything more than a modified dormitory room, cleared out of all the unnecessary compartments and furniture, to create room for whatever the Cult needs. Finally shutting off his saber, Arulas inspects the room, eyeing each crate with a deep and insightful gaze. Nothing of note pops out to him, everything about the room ordinary, pointless and… utterly useless to him.

One crate after another is opened by Arulas, revealing again, nothing of use to him. No files, no holocrons, not even a datadisk filled with details about whatever the soldiers were doing in the temple. There is nothing, and that had Arulas’ anger boiling beneath his skin. He’d traveled to the Temple for information that could lead him to the next member of the cult, one higher than the pitiful Jedi’s he encountered on the Station in unknown space. Yet, he’d be leaving empty handed… or would he.

As he turns to leave, the Mon Cal’s body had been disrupted, moved. Arulas instinctively looks to where he’d last seen the Jedi, and she too was no longer there. He could no longer contain his anger, the purple blade of his lightsaber ignites with a bassy hum that accompanied a roar. One so loud his pupils are corrupted by blood and just like the Jedi, a wave of force fulminates from him. Sending the room into disarray, crates everywhere, the few consoles present shattered and the walls of the hidden room dented. Like a predator, Arulas leaps out into the hallway, looking all around him in search of his prey.

He strides erractly down the hall, his head never looking in one direction for more than a instant. His mind clouded by the lust for the Zeltron Jedis head, and the Mon Calamari’s information. The sounds of his steps are dark as his feet strike the ground viciously, never stopping as he subconsciously reaches out with his mind. Within seconds he can feel the presence of the Jedi, and with her the fish head. He responds by increasing his pace, charging down the halls as his body augments his legs well beyond their physical limits. To him the hallways are all blurs, the staircases the same too, all he could see was the force of the Jedi.

Before long he reaches the main hall of the Temple, a grand room where the Stih entered and began the sacking of Coruscant. The damage had been left, nothing changed as some of the pillars that line the grand hall lie in ruins. The entrance a shadow of its former self, the upper level now mostly one with the lower, but it doesn’t mean a thing to Arulas. His quarry was only three hundred meters from the exit, and he could feel that she knew he was watching her, that he was channeling his force into his body for a leap that would cut off her escape. She was right.

In the next moment, Arulas’ bends both knees and holds his body low to the ground, arms by his side with a saber ready in each hands. His eyes as red as the blood of the corpses he had created not a minute ago, both resting on the place he intends to land. With a thump he careens into the air, closing the distance between them like it was nothing, over two hundred meters, landing directly in front of the Jedi. Wasting no time both lightsaber ignite, a purple and red light show, as he turns to hold a saber to the throat of each before him.

“You should have died Jedi, it would have eased your suffering!” Without so much as a response he thrusts his purple saber into the Mon Calamari’s throat, cauterizing the wound as the blade plunges further and further.

Seeing the life flicker from the Mon Cal’s eyes, the Jedi falls to her knees and begins to sob. He has broken her, killed what she stood to protect, destroyed her faith and her confidence in it with. A clean slate that any Jedi or Sith would take to use as a tool of war. The only thing she has left is her voice.

“Why?” It is quiet but she looks up to Arulas, her eyes stricken with tears. “Why do you hunt them? Why do you want to see them gone from the Galaxy?”

Extinguishing his sabers, Arulas places both onto his belt while the corpse of the Mon Cal hits the floor with a great thud. “They stole my childhood, my choices and my life. They doomed me to rot in a prison because of their agenda. They don’t care who they cross, as long as the master lives. The Cult will not stop until they are the Jedi and all concepts of balance are left to the dead.” Each words holds a great deal of malice, his aura spiking as he talks. Everything about Arulas exudes pure and utter hatred. “But most of all, they tortured me te keep me complicite. I was weak, but now I will show them the tool they wanted was more than a mere prodigy, he will be their undoing.”

* * *


	3. Chapter 3

Coruscant | Zhellday 30th - 4th Month | 3651 BBY | 2 ATC

The staredown persists for well over a minute, no words spoken since Arulas revealed his true agenda. His wishes, nay his ambitions to see the Cult of Light destroyed and the master strung up. A foul smell from the Mon Cal’s corpse wafts around the air, stinging the already broken Jedi’s nose. She had not smelled anything like it and for her first to be someone she tried to protect, it cut her to her core. Arulas lets a few more minutes pass, but as the fifth minute came and went he finally took his eyes from the Zeltron Jedi and fixed them on another Mon Calamari. This one, however, is ready for Arulas, as he is accompanied by twelve HK modelled assassination droids.

“An inspired speech, Arulas, but not one I can allow to come to fruition I’m afraid. After the sordid business with Master Dagos Hart and Master Lorn Tachi, you have already interfered more than we can accept.” The Mon Cal’s speech is extremely formal, almost like an Imperial officer yet he doesn’t have the imperial accent. “Now, if you’d please move away from Padawan Chani Veron, I will ensure your death is swift.”

The HK droids hold up their blasters and each one focuses on a different vital organ of Arulas’. He may be able to stop one bolt, but twelve at different areas of his body may prove too much, at least that is what the Mon Cal is resting on. Arulas does nothing to even show he’s bothered by the threat of an apparent firing squad ready to shot him like a dog. Instead, he stands tall, looking the Mon Cal directly in the beady eyes, his own fiery red surprising the man.

“Ah, your eyes tell me all I need to know.” He sighs and holds up his right hand. “Fire as necessary.” As his order is said aloud, he drops his hand to his side and all twelve droids fire in unison, bolt after bolt, all in the same instance.

To the Mon Cal’s and the HK droids surprise, each bolt misses its target, not because their shots were flawed, but because Arulas and the suspected Chani had disappeared from in front of them. The droids automatically enter search and dispose mode, a feature all new HK assassination droids contain, by setting up a perimeter which takes half of the droids while the others search. Alone to his thoughts, the Mon Cal inspects the spot both of his targets were at the moment before they disappeared, looking for clues to where they had gone.

Other than blaster bolt scorch marks, the spot is entirely devoid of any hints to where Arulas had gone. If he didn’t know any better he would assume the HK droids precise fire had disintegrated the two, but that is not what he ordered, and if the droids are anything it's obedient to their orders. He crouches next to the scorch marks, running his hand through the coarse marks on the marble floor, but alas he finds nothing. Standing himself back straight, he looks to his droids and finds he’s missing two, or more accurately, he’s gained two piles of scrap.

Though he doesn’t outwardly show it, he’s impressed. Not only did Arulas escape, but he’s also somehow destroyed two of his droids without making so much as a sound. His interest piqued, he strides confidently and straight-backed over to the nearest pile of bolts and alloys, looking it over with a curious eye. After carefully inspecting each bolt he stood himself up again, clicking his tongue.

“Droids return to me and hold formation delta.” The Mon Calamari’s order is loud and clear, and as expected each droid returns to him within moments and hold a circular formation around him. “Okay, Arulas, return the Padawan to me and I shall recommend the Cult leaves you to your own devices… permitting you leave the Cult out of your purview.” Unlike his order, as he negotiates a hint of fear enters his voice. Something his training should have covered up.

No return comes from anyone present, only the sound of air flowing through the Temple’s main entrance. Taking a long breath, the Mon Cal turns to the only thing he did not inspect, the body of his subordinate Mon Cal. Doing as instructed, the droids keep their formation around him as he saunters across the slick marble to the still smouldering corpse. The lone wound through his neck charred, but not enough to obstruct those who’d wish to look through it. Brown marble clearly visible from the opposite side of the wound. Taking a knee, the Mon Cal scoops up his dead subordinate's hand and holds it tight for a few seconds all while lowering his head, he mutters something under his breath before releasing the hand.

When he returns his gaze back to normal, he does not see a droid but the groin area of a Republic Trooper uniform and armour. His mouth becomes immediately dry as he tries to take a gulp, his eyes fixed and unable to move. Yet various questions fill his mind, how did he sneak up on him? How did he destroy all of his droids without a single sound? How did he survive the initial volley of blaster fire?

“It… it seems you have bested me Arulas.” He tries to take another gulp but again he finds no liquids to swallow. Inside his mind, all of his backup and contingency plans play, but even with the great deal of effort he put into them, he never expected what he encountered.

He prepares to beg for his life, but before he can he is stuck with a great deal of force, almost like being hit by a bowcaster bolt. Though without the immediate death that usually follows the latter. It does, however, send him flying a good ten meters across the marbled floors of the great hall. His body flies through the air as if he is weightless, yet soon enough what goes up has to fall back down. It hits the grounds with a deep thud and the Mon Cal rolls for another two meters before finally stopping just short of another being with unusual skin pigments. Dazed, he uses whatever strength he can muster to push himself up to his knees, just enough to not look like he’s trying to fight back. He may be a soldier, but he is not a trooper, he’s never faced anything more than the local rabble, anything greater was above both his pay grade and his station within the cult.

Given time to breathe easy since Arulas simply stares daggers at the Mon Cal, the latter accepts the gift of time and inspects the other being next to him. A young pink skinned woman on her knees, tear marks down both of her cheeks as she looks back at the Mon Calamari. Before he can reach out for help, Arulas lands in between the two, stopping all chance of the Mon Cal begging the girl for help. Recoiling from the fallen Jedi, the Mon Cal creates five or so feet of room between him and Arulas.

Without any possible outcomes, he can think of leaving him alive, the Mon Cal makes a final attempt to survive the encounter. “Let me live, Arulas, and I’ll tell you all I know about the Cults activities and my role in them.” The proposition is great for both parties, yet he is still not hopeful. The Cults archives list Arulas as timid if not outright begrudging of fighting anyone, yet the being in front of him displayed neither trait. “What do you say?”

Arulas’ crimson eyes inspect the soldier for a moment before his sadistic smile graces his lips. “I see no reason to accept… I can easily take the information from you.” Holding his right arm outstretched, he contorts his hand all while the Mon Cal begins to float into the air. “First, tell me your name.”

“Nurx Iakbis… Sergeant of the Republic Home forces.” Nurx does as he’s asked, hanging in the air unable to do anything about his situation. Even if he could break free it would do him little good, so he accepts his lot and lets his body remain limp.

“Good, now what are the Cult doing in these ruins, hm?” The next question is as simple as the first, yet the undertone is far more perverse. As if he is expecting to be told nothing and is simply waiting to force Nurx’s tongue.

“The Cult was scouring the Great Library for all information and knowledge they could find that would help enlighten the Master and lead to the downfall of the dark side of the force. We started the operation a year after Master Tal was killed and you were imprisoned.” Unfortunately for Arulas, Nurx’s maw does not remain still and he spills the exact orders he was given.

A click of his tongue latter, Arulas continues his interrogation though not before making his hold over Nurx felt, constricting the Mon Calamari just enough to cause mild discomfort. Anything more would just hinder him and he is fully aware of that fact. “How large is the Cult now?”

“I don't kno-” As he tries to finish he finds the light contraction to treble, his lungs unable to draw in the air they need. The bulb-like eyes bulge wildly from the force exerted on them, almost popping from their sockets. “I… sw..e..ar I d...on’t kn...o...w!” He exerts every last bit of effort he can, his lungs on fire and his consciousness fading from him. However, fortune's favour shines upon him and the construction reduces just as he was about to slip away from the realm of consciousness. A cough or two force themselves out of his lungs as he swallows air greedily, savouring it’s taste. “The Cult enacted a reform when a new Master took the mantle from Master Tal, all I know is when missions are occurring that require my expertise. Finding the names of the dead, on the other hand, is easy for any Republic officer.”

“How convenient… and your expertise is?” Arulas keeps his hold over the man, simply for the effect on his psyche. He knows full well that he cannot let his want to kill the man stop him retrieving the information he needs.

A pause fills the air with the Mon Cal still breathing in as much air as he can, feeling his time is short. “As I said earlier, I’m a Sergeant with the Republic Home Forces, my speciality and that of my unit is intelligence and strategic deployment of resources. We act very much like the SIS when called upon by my Master, the holocrons we were inspecting here was a side mission. Simply to expedite the gathering of information from many of the Temples.”

Arulas relinquishes his hold on the force around Nurx’s body, resulting in him falling to the ground with a thud. A sudden look of relief fills his face as he looks around him and then at Arulas, his life seemingly his own again. He begins to use all the remaining strength he can muster to push himself up off the ground, never letting his peripheral vision leave the fallen Jedi’s image. Slowly he manages to make it to his feet, though he sways slightly in the mild breeze that runs through the temple. That, however, is the worst of his fears as Arulas’ smile has not left his features and his hand has not rejoined his side. Instead, it is held higher, directed at the roofing straight above himself.

Time slows down for Nurx, as Arulas clenches his hand and drops it in one motion, the results immediately heard as a resounding crumble and crack resonates through the temple. He tries to move, but his eyes lock with the debris that falls towards him and fear overcomes every inch of his being. No matter how much he wants to jump in any direction, roll to safety or simply move, his body refuses all orders given to it. Taking no time at the all, the debris sings through the air and lands square on the position of the Mon Cal, creating a sickening thud partially hidden by the other rocks cratering the once pristine marble.

Of the two present, the young Zeltron is the only one to turn away from the scene before her, tears still present on either cheek and in her eyes. The other, however, is beyond ecstatic at the result of his manipulation of the force and his answers. Though he could have waited long enough to ask for a name of the man’s master, yet he remains clinging to the fact his new tool will have seen her former Master’s Master at least once. With the matter at hand finished, he slides over to Chani and kneels down to her level, holding his hand to push her head up to force her to look into his eyes.

“The Cult is now your enemy and you will now serve me as your Master until you die, understood?” Arulas’ tone is sinister, but his expressions are of pure elation.

A final few tears fall down her cheeks, her purple eyes locked with Arulas’. “Yes… my Master.” She sounds defeated as she looks into her new Master's eyes, yet her aura does not speak that same truth. On the inside, her feelings are mixed, muddied beyond the point of recognition. How she truly feels only hers to know.

Upon hearing it for the first time, Arulas lets her head go and stands upright. “Good, pick yourself up. I am in need of new attire, and you are in need of a lightsaber. Neither of which we’ll find easily here. The forge held just enough for my new sabers, and without the casings of the others, we’ll need to visit another planet close to the Jedi.” An emotionless nod comes from the Zeltron, her eyes dim and unfeeling as she looks at her new Master. “Come, the Jedi’s Hanger should be accessible from the inside, and with the haste, the Jedi evacuated after the sacking. There should be at least one starship left.”

A second nod and Chani rises to her feet with her head hanging slightly. Either not caring or not realising, Arulas leads the two off in the direction of the Jedi Temples hanger, a state of the art facility that Master’s and their padawans would use to visit the temple directly instead of needing to dock at the sort of close dock. Though it's existence is known to all Jedi, only the high ranking really used it, and of them, most were on a priority mission that called for urgent landings. Taking less than a half an hour to find the entrance to the hanger, Arulas stands directly in front of the large doors as they inch open. Chani lingers behind him slightly, her mind on her thoughts and not her present.

With the doors slid open, Arulas marches inside and inspects the enormous room with a quick glance. For how bad the sacking is said to have been, the hanger is spotless. No fallen debris, no cracks in the structural integrity of the room and not so much as a single thing out of place. How such a thing has happened would be up for debate, yet it is not one either Arulas or Chani care to have as they both wish to leave Coruscant behind them for now. To that end, Arulas wanders over to a nearby console, looking it over before beginning to attempt to access its files.

At first, he is able to manoeuvre through the files with ease, finding all of the docking requests and departures from the hanger before and during the sacking. However, all information after the day Coruscant was raided are locked behind a wall, restricted to Jedi Masters who hold the access code. Though his skills in slicing are limited, Arulas begins to try to slice his way into the consoles mainframe and bypass the security protocols. For ten long and arduous minutes, he encounters wall after wall, failure after failure. Keeping his anger at the console under his skin, he continues on looking for a way through the walls. Not a single clue as to what he’ll find if anything, but since the Cult had been in the temple since it’s sacking it could prove useful in finding another lead as to what they are planning.

After ten or so more attempts that each fails at the same exact point, Arulas finds he can no longer contain his anger and draws one of his sabers. The blade ignites and extinguishes before most could register what had even happened, but Chani saw exactly what had occurred. Upon drawing the saber he slashed upwards, letting the blade come to life just as it passed through the console, the hot plasma gliding effortlessly as it severs it into two halves. Not even an inch out of the now smouldering alloy, the blade is recalled and the hilt placed back onto his belt.

Looking up, Arulas takes a longer look at the hanger and finds that the farthest point of the hanger, which contains two republic snub-fighters and a lone starship. In looks, it matched the shuttle they had used to come to Coruscant, but upon closer inspection, as both Arulas and Chani move closer they notice it differs in a few ways. The first being the decals the ship sports or lack thereof. All Republic ships bear some sort of colours as decals to allow them to recognise friendlies when out on operations, yet this ship had none. The second, each engine on the ship is an aftermarket replacement to the standard Republic issue. The last is that the ship has space to space armaments, in place of the moveable turrets at its front were fixed turbo lasers. Seeing each change, Arulas begins to regain his smile.

“Chani, do you recognise this ship?” Arulas turns as he asks his question to his new apprentice. She doesn’t answer verbally but gives a small shake of her head. “As expected. This is a proper Jedi Shuttle, given to members of the Shadows.”

“The Shadows?” Chani questions in a confused tone as she looks over the ship before letting her eyes linger on Arulas.

“They are a group of highly specialized Jedi who are sent on missions of utmost importance… and usually, ones that require the Republic to have plausible deniability. Hence the ships lack of markings and slightly adjusted design, all to make it look like a freelance mercenary or fallen Jedi.” Arulas recounts what he knows of the Shadows, all lessons he learnt from his previous Master. “Given the perfect state of this ship, we may encounter its owner so prepare yourself.”

At his command, Chani begins to slide into the Jedi ready stance, but as she reaches to her belt for her lightsaber she remembers that she left it far behind her in the temple. “Master… I don't have a lightsaber.”

A sigh escapes Arulas maw as he slips his primary saber into his hand. “If you cannot fight without a lightsaber, are you even a Jedi?” His statements receive nothing but a look of shame from Chani, who had seemingly come to terms with her position… at least on the surface. After a second sigh, Arulas slides his second saber off of his belt and tosses his primary saber to Chani. “I expect you to return it when we are sure the ship is ownerless.”

The air around the two becomes silent for a second before both sabers ignite creating an intimidating bassy hum that fills the void. Red, purple and black plasma lights the air around them, both now in their respect stace as if the mere hum is the cue they needed. Chani in her standard Jedi ready position, while Arulas enters his own. Left foot forward, low centre of gravity and his knees bent. Inching towards the ship, Arulas takes up the front as he moves slightly faster than his apprentice. Reaching out through the force he finds nothing out of place, not a single whiff of another person's force.

Within moments they are directly opposite to the back of the starship, its ramp down and the entrance to the ship completely open. Given their location, the ship is highly unlikely to be unattended or at the very least easily taken. Arulas gestures to Chani to wait as he slowly ascends up the ship's ramp, placing one foot in front of the other with nearly meticulous pacing. The metal twang sounds as each foot hits the alloy of the ramp. Soon enough he finds himself aboard the vessel, which looks identical to the shuttle he stole during his escape. As he passes each doorway on his way to the cockpit, he looks for anything out of place or of interest. Nothing lies out of place and the whole ship seems pristine, almost like the owner cleaned it meticulously. Or hardly used it.

Unwilling to make the same mistakes he had made on his escape from his imprisonment, Arulas doubles back and looks through the crew quarters. Closing in on the door, it slides open automatically revealing what is supposed to be the place the crew sleeps, yet instead, it's completely different. The rows of bunks alongside the opposing walls are filled to the bream with Jedi holocrons of unknown dates and filled with unfathomable knowledge. A table for the crew to each usually sits next to the door to the quarters, rather a well-made bed fills the space neatly made and apparently unused. The rest of the room remains the same apart from the lights being noticeably dimmer than standard.

Arulas strides across the room to the holocrons, a glint in his eyes as he scrutinises their authenticity. From their looks alone, he can tell they are well over a thousand years old, but the knowledge inside them is locked, no matter how much force he funnels into the object. He places the first Holocron back into its place, moving onto the next and the next until he has attempted to use each one present. Knowing he will have time in the future to probe the holocrons further, he slides back out of the room and finds his way into the engine compartments. Arulas steps inside, the hum of his blade his only companion as he searches every inch of the compartment.

For all the effort he puts into searching the compartment and the ship as a whole, Arulas remains fruitless to who owns the ship and if they even live. Shutting his saber off and sliding the blade back onto his belt, Arulas saunters out of the engine compartment and makes his way towards the exit ramp. Expecting his new apprentice to be dead or gone, he takes up a casual pace as he approaches the ramp. Once in view, he sees Chani stood exactly where he had told her to stand, his saber still ignited and held defensively by the Jedi.

“Chani, come.” Arulas gestures to the girl to enter the ship, content with its contents and lack of an owner. “I assume you understand how to prep a starship?” She nods to his question, extinguishing the blade of her saber and passing it back to Arulas as she passes him. “Good, I’ll join you in the cockpit in a moment, something about this seems too easy.”

Taking that as an order to hurry up, Chani scurries off to the cockpit leaving Arulas alone looking back around at the hanger. He slides the saber Chani returned to him into his primary hand, holding it ready for any occurrence that would require force. Time passes him by and soon enough the engines of the ship begin to spool up, and the automated ramp retraction process initiates. Arulas takes a few steps back just off of the ramp to watch it retract fully and seal off the ship. He doesn’t move from the exit until he’s sure it’s fully sealed off and there is no way anyone will be able to gain access. The airlock pressurises the hold and the locks engage, earning a grin from Arulas who spins on his heel and strides towards the cockpit. Within a few steps, he enters the cockpit and takes up the central seat which Chani left free for her Master.

“Master, the hanger’s ray shield control is requesting an access code to allow the ship to depart. What should I do?” Chani questions, though as she says ‘master’ her voice waivers slightly.

“The access code, if it has remained unchanged, is 7QER522RC.” Arulas informs the Jedi, looking through the console beside him.

Chani thumbs in the code, reading it back to herself before she finalises the input. For a few moments the console works at communicating with the ray shields control panel, but after a few seconds, it pings. The screen turns green prompting both Arulas and Chani to turn their focus to the exit of the hanger. Taking only an instant the ray shield blinks out of existence exposing the hanger to the stale air of the planet. Arulas takes control of the ship and brings the ship into the air, retracting the landing gear ahead of accelerating.

Slowly the ship gains speed, passing the threshold of the hanger and entering Coruscant ’s well know endless traffic. If any onlookers were watching the ship, the second it merged with the traffic it would be lost to them. For a while they keep the ship hidden within the traffic, waiting for the perfect time to enter a climb to leave the atmosphere.

“Chani, what systems are present in the nav-computer?” Arulas asks keeping the ship in line with the traffic ahead of him while monitoring his surroundings.

With her role as pilot usurped, Chani does as she is asked and begins to search through the nav-computers memory banks. For the most part, it seems like any other nav-computer, with jumps made to and from Republic systems. Nothing out of the ordinary, even for a Shadow. Not to be deterred from the task, she delves deeper into the history and finds a system she’s never heard of. As far as she can see from the data stored from the jump command, it’s a remote system deep in the Outer Rim, yet nothing else. Not even the planet of interest in the system or the planets condition and atmosphere type.

“Master… of all of the data, most is just jumps between Republic space.” Chani informs her master, continuing to attempt to find more out from the data present. “Apart from one jump.”

Instantly Arulas’ interest is peaked. “Where did they jump to?”

“A system called Felucia, in the Outer Rim… but there's one issue.” Chani’s eyes widen as she finds a sliver more about the system. She turns to face Arulas, who is impatiently waiting on an answer. “It’s deep within the Sith Empire’s territory.”

“Does the system list any specifics about what they were doing there? Or what planet this ship landed on?” Arulas’ tone turns cold and callous as he pulls back on the ship's throttle, sending the ship hurtling forward and soon enough upwards towards the atmospheric barrier of the planet.

“No… only the system itself and the hyperplanes it took to arrive. The Perlemian Trade Route, a direct hyperplane and it starts here in the Coruscant system.” Chani reads off of the console, the information limited by what the previous user had inputted.

The ship jerks as Arulas process the new information, his focus split between piloting and laying out a plan of action. Putting the latter to the back of his mind he adjusts the ship's vector to align with the escape vector of the planet. The ship hits the atmosphere at full speed at the aligned vector, the ship's deflectors compensating for the heat and creating a smooth transition from the atmosphere to cold space. Free from gravity the engines fall silent for an instant before booming through the ship as the sublight drive kicks in and forces the ship through the vacuum. In no time at all, Coruscant is a mere blob behind the shuttle as Arulas pilots it towards the egress point of the Perlemian Trade Route. Soon enough they arrive at the point and the ship falls silent before it slides into hyperspace, blinking out of existence to any observers.

* * *

Felucia | Benduday 1st - 5th Month | 3651 BBY | 2 ATC

Just over a day of travel pass the two Jedi by as their ship hurtles through the blue swirling hyperplanes. The scenery all too familiar to the two now, yet one they are welcome to be free of. Only moments after Arulas retakes controls of the ship after taking a few hours to rest up, the nav-computer beeps signalling the ship is ready to drop from hyperspace. A process the Arulas immediately sets about doing, decelerating the hyperdrive and dropping the ship on the edge of an unfamiliar single star system, which hosts eight large stellar bodies as well as numerous others far smaller and less important.

“This system… it’s strong in the force, but why?” Arulas questions to himself, looking over the system from the viewport. The longer he stares the more one of the stellar bodies attracts his attention, forcing him to reach out to it with the force. To his surprise the planet pushed back, his perverted force refused by the planet.

Without another word, Arulas throttles up the subspace drives and set course for the fourth stellar body from the star. A green planet, seemingly covered in a dense amount of forests or fields impossible to differentiate from space. A few minutes pass of cold space before the ship enters the gravity well of the planet. Feeling the strain Arulas readies to pass through the atmosphere, keeping the ship at the vector calculated by the ships onboard systems. Just as it did when it entered the Coruscant atmosphere, the ship hits the atmosphere, using the deflectors to absorb the heat and allow for a smooth transition. Once clear the atmospheric engines spool up and take over from the subspace drives.

Soaring through the sky the two present aboard look out over the now clear all-encompassing forests. Chani oogles the scenery, looking deeply at every part of it, on the other hand, Arulas keeps his focus on finding somewhere to land the shuttle preferable far away from any indigenous life. If there is any at all. For hours on end, the ship continues to hurtle through the planet's sky, the forest below them offering no safe landing spots. Every mile of the planet they pass is covered with enough trees, or whatever it is, to prevent any type of landing even from small shuttles. Nearly done with trying to find a landing spot, the ship's console lights up with a message, ‘Approaching designated landing spot’. Seeing no other option, Arulas clicks his tongue and sets the ship for the spot mentioned.

Within an hour the Arulas pilots the ship to the clearing and brings the ship gently down into it, ceasing all of the functions of the ship as soon as he feels it hit the ground. “Chani, search the ship before while I take a look outside. Find anything that could be used as a weapon and keep it on you.”

She nods plainly to his order as she watches Arulas stand from his chair and stride out of the cockpit. His presence gone allows Chani to let out a breath she didn't realise she had started to hold in. The man is imposing, just his aura fills her with fear and regret. It may have been only a couple of days, but she is already feeling the cost of her own weakness. She failed to destroy him and as her penance, she submitted to him where she could have held her values to the bitter end.

‘Why?’ The question rings out through Chani’s entire being, gnawing at her sanity. ‘Why did she let herself become a tool of Arulas’? He himself was a tool for the cult if he is to be believed, yet he’d just as soon use their own tactics against them?’

No matter how many ways she tries to look at it, she is nothing but a tool now. A tool to be wielded and used whenever it is convenient for her ‘Master’. Her own anger stokes inside her as she delves ever deeper into her thoughts, but no matter how hard or deep she goes she finds no solace. Nothing except for more anger hidden under her Jedi training. A solitary tear carves a path down her right cheek, rolling until it hits her chin and drops onto her lap, momentary causing a little-wet patch. Of all of the thoughts, the last one she finds presents a notion she had tried to ignore.

‘Maybe Arulas is right, the cult might very well be in the wrong.’ The words sting as Chani thinks of them, burning it into her psyche so she can never forget.

Wiping her face where the tear had fallen, she pushes herself to her feet and turns to face the exit to the cockpit. She has a task and for now, until she knows for certain, she intends to do as she’s asked. Just as she did when her former Master asked things of her she had never expected to do. Many things were wrong to her then and still remain wrong to her now, yet she understands the reasons why they did them. With Arulas, his motives other than destroying the cult are hidden from her. Or maybe he’s simply more open then her Master was? Her mind begins to ache from the overthinking, prompting Chani to look around the ship for anything that could pose as a weapon while Arulas does whatever he intends to do.

Chani strides solemnly out of the cockpit and into the crew quarters, earning a glare from Arulas as he looks over a screen embedded in the wall next to the exit ramp of the ship. The information present is complex, such as breakdowns of the planet’s atmosphere, the planet’s ecology and other details of the planet that would be best known before traversing it. For all the information present, he keeps his eyes on the breakdown of the atmosphere which shows it contains near perfect levels of oxygen, nitrogen and hydrogen with other smaller quantity gasses present. Above the bar in which the breakdown is shown, in capitals, it reads ‘Atmosphere Type I - Breathable for the majority of species in the galaxy. No Breath mask recommend’.

Soon enough Arulas finishes gandering at the screen and slides over to the wall opposite the screen, thumbing the exit ramp controls. Air rushes out of the surrounding frame of the exit, depressurizing the hull to match the planet’s before the door slides open to reveal a menagerie of greens, blues and oranges. Before he could take a step out of the ship sweat arises over his forehead and drips sluggishly down his temples. All over his body sweat production triples and his clothes appear to mark from the moisture now present. Wiping the sweat pooled on his head, Arulas emerges from the ship and slides down the ramp and onto the planet’s surface.

Out of the ship, the planet’s flora and fungi become more apparent glinting in the sun’s rays as if they were translucent. Like glasswork the entire surroundings light up in a multitude of colours while enhancing the blues and oranges. Though Arulas is not given a chance to become interested by the sights as the smell that accompanies it is fetid, abysmal and with no apparent source. His insides turn at the smell while he strides further from the shuttle, the flora seemingly changing to his presence. Everything directly around him is dimmer than the rest further away, corrupted in a sense. However, as Arulas kneels down to feel the ground and see if he can find a way to understand why the planet reacts this way to him, as well as why he can feel the planet itself, he’s interrupted.

Out of nowhere a large six-legged creature charges through the tree line, its roars directed at Arulas as it closes the distance within moments. Just as the beast is about to collide with him, Arulas dodged out of the way, barely eluding the creature's thunderous stomp as he rolled across the floor. Rolling straight to his feet, without any hesitation he reaches for his primary saber and pulls it from his belt, igniting it and sliding into his battle stance. Feet wide and his body low and slightly forward. The hum fills him with inner calm as his emotions surface and his eyes lock with the creature.

Other than its six legs, the creature's body is held at least two meters into the air by the former. In the mid joint of the legs sprout three claws on each, sharp and deadly to anything they come into contact with. From observation alone, the creatures blue and green shaded skin looks rough and thick like a reptiles, and along with the seemingly bony neck plate, it could very well be a reptile. Skidding to a halt, it slowly turns to face Arulas, screeching like an untamed beast as it’s three eyes lock with his crimson ones.

The beast wastes little time relaunching itself at its target closing the distance in an unbelievable amount of time. Again Arulas finds himself on the defensive, a position he’s wholly unused to, even as a padawan he nearly always had the offensive. Only a meter away the beast rears up and brandishes its forelegs at Arulas before bringing them down onto the Jedi. Preferring not to end up with two giant claw-like legs impaling him, he brings his saber to match the legs severing both upon contact. Reeling back the beast screeches in pain and falls back slightly. Seeing a perfect opening, Arulas flips the lightsaber in his grip and leaps into the air, his legs augmented by the force to increase the height of his jump. Reaching the pinnacle of his jump he descended as quickly as a bolt of thunder hitting the earth, his lightsaber brought down like a hammer on an anvil on the skull of the beast. Finding no resistance from the thick skin, the plasma cauterises every inch of flesh as it passes through, splitting the skull in two once it exits the wound. Arulas lands softly on the ground, bending his knees to accommodate his landing followed by the large crash of the beast's corpse hitting the floor next to him.

Standing straight Arulas extinguishes his lightsaber and positions it back onto his belt, allowing his breathing to normalise now that the situation has passed. Though the attack only served to raise another question in his mind he has no answers to and no way to find any out without great difficulty. The only start in sight is to look over the corpse of the mighty beast he had only just fought, it’s head smouldering as the split cauterized flesh singes the grassy floor. Like the planet itself, the beast holds a minute connection to the force but offers no reasons as to why. Knowing to understand the force he must merge his own with it, he closes his eyes and lets his force essence linger around his body. Time passes him by without any way of him knowing, his sole effort on understanding the planet’s connection to the force.

Five hours pass by before Arulas recalls his senses to his body, his crimson eyes opening just as his apprentice comes into view. On her belt rests a long silver blade, it’s hilt covered in what seems to be a roughly made leather grip. The latter part alone enough for anyone to summarize the age of the blade outdates any current vibroblade. Yet he can’t help but believe it’ll be enough until such a time she can find a living crystal and forge a new lightsaber. Finding his senses all now returned to him, Arulas turns to face his apprentice.

“Chani, I see you found yourself a weapon.” He regards her cooly, yet keeps a stern tone hidden underneath it. A show of his authority while trying to keep her under his control all the same.

She nods, unsheathing the blade and flourishing it before he in one fluid motion. “I did, a vibroblade… or at least I think it’s a vibroblade.” She inspects the blade as she holds it to her front, looking over the hilt more so than the actual blade. “Though I cannot seem to find the vibration generator.”

“A blade is a blade, Chani, it’ll serve you well until you forge a new lightsaber.” Arulas comments, moving past his apprentices' new weapon to something more pressing to him. “This planet, can you feel it?” He leaves the question vague, hoping Chani will answer as he expects her too.

For a moment, Chani closes her eyes to let her mastery over the force be her eyes and senses as she reaches out as expected. At first, she feels nothing, not the slightest spec of anything that could relate to what Arulas asked. However, as she clears her mind further a tingling feeling nags at her, begging her to rid the darkness from her surroundings. Almost like a living being asking to be free from whatever hold the dark side could hold over it. Not wishing to linger in the feeling calling out to her, she recalls her senses and her eyes creep open to see Arulas knelt by the corpse beside him.

“The planet… it’s connected to the force?” Chani questions more than answers, her own mind unsure of how to process her findings, while simultaneously anticipating an answer from Arulas.

“It is, though how and why I am unsure. I’ve been to planets connected to the force, but they bore a single side. Like Tython, a planet wholly submerged in the light side and Korriban in the dark.” Arulas pauses for a moment, allowing Chani to keep up. “This planet, however, ebbs and flows whenever an entity of either side simply exists on its surface. I felt it just before this beast ambushed me.” He gestures to the corpse to his right. “Whatever the Shadows came here for, it must have something to do with this ‘anomaly’.”

At the mention of the Shadows, a light inside of Chani’s head goes off. “Master, you never did say why we came here, would you mind telling me now?” She knows her position is one of weakness and subjugation, but if Arulas intends to be her Master he must intend to teach her in some form. At least so she thinks to herself.

Arulas says nothing for a few seconds, looking to Chani with his ever perverse eyes yet without his smile on those who know him would know of that. “So, you find yourself feeling the need to learn from me?” Just as he finishes he allows his sick smile to etch itself onto his features, his entire demeanour reverting back to the one Chani fought on Coruscant. All sense of his discipline gone. Using all of her remaining will, Chani holds her tongue and simply nods. “Well, if you insist. I thought what better place to hide my presence, plot my next moves and train than a planet only the Shadows know of, hm?”

“I guess, but why not somewhere like Nar Shaddaa or another world filled to the brim with criminals to blend into?” Chani questions, finding his answer to be hiding something.

“Well that's simple, here there are no agents of the SIS or Imperial Intelligence now is there. The moment we land on Nar Shaddaa, we’d have been tracked by the Republic, our ship taken and soon enough hunted down for my crimes.” Arulas explains simply, paying little actual attention to his apprentice, the corpse far more interesting to him as he still looks over it.

Shocked by how reasonable his answer is, Chani takes a moment to think for herself. ‘If she is his apprentice as he says, does that mean he intends to teach her as well? Or is he simply going to use her as an expendable tool?’ She shakes her head from her thinking and joins her Master by the side of the beast's body, looking over it as well, though not really sure what he is searching for. The two keep their eyes fixed to it for a few minutes, neither talking to the other for the duration, the only sound the fauna around them. Birds singing their songs, critters making their way across the earth to wherever they want, pitcher planets capturing their dinner and the flora around them swaying in the breeze.

The time passing as they stare at a corpse becomes enough for Chani who decides to pipe up. “Master… do you intend to train me as well?” She pulls the question from her inner self and looks to him for an answer.

Arulas breaks his staredown with the body and turns to his apprentice, she looks as serious as can be as she waits. “Well, of course, can’t have my shiny new apprentice die before she tells me about her former Master’s Master now can I.” He chuckles to himself as his sick smile lingers over his face, though it doesn't last as it soon washes away and his features become stern. “However, you will do as I ask without question, no order will be ignored or I’ll kill you myself. Understood?”

The sharp turn takes Chani by surprise who, without any thought, drops to her knee and holds her head down. “Yes, my Master.”

“Good.” Arulas’ smile returns, standing from his crotch. “Then we’ll begin your training here and now.” One of his saber flings from his belt and into his hand, igniting within moments as he readies himself.

On instincts alone Chani leaps backwards, creating a good deal of space between her and Arulas. She goes to retrieve her weapon but stops herself remembering its lack of a vibration generator will mean its nothing but a piece of metal to a lightsaber. Left with few options she tries her luck at taking one of Arulas’ through using the force. The remaining lightsaber hilt on Arulas’ belt jiggles for a moment before flying across to Chani’s open palm, resting snugly in it as she activates the blade. For the third time, the two enter a standoff, though the undertone of deceit and hatred little more than a minute subtly of their now intertwined destinies.

“Lesson one, predictability.” Arulas calls out, his form loosening and his blade shifting to a reverse grip. “Which forms did your former Master teach you, hm? Shii-Cho? Makashi? Soresu?” He stops after listing the third form, sure she would take the cue to answer him.

“He taught me a little of them all, but he favoured Niman for my learning,” Chani mentions, keeping her blade steady and her eyes solely on Arulas.

“Ah, from VI, quite the practical choice.” Arulas remarks simply, lowering his centre of mass.

Before any more words can be shared betwixt one another, Arulas erases the distance between himself and Chani, his lightsaber like a thunderbolt crashing down to earth as he arcs up at his target. Barely able to see it coming, Chani does what she can to intercept the blow, her saber the only bastion of protection from certain death. She focuses her eyes on the joined blades, the plasma creating an orchestra of screeches while neither one backs down from the confrontation. The interlocked blades soon part as blow after blow is sent upon Chani’s defence, testing her speed and ability to predict where she will be struck next.

No matter how close she comes to predicting the next blow, it fails to be what she expects. His movements were simply overwhelming, his ability to find an opening where she swears there is none only pushes her further into her anger. Any breathing room that he created for her was simply feints to see if she’d let down her guard, yet when he could press an advantage he falls back and finds a new angle to come at her from. Nothing she can do is enough to keep Arulas’ lightsaber from her personal space, something before him she’d had no problem of doing. It wasn’t her training, at least so she believes, it is whatever training he was given that created his unwavering resolve and unending attacks.

No sooner had the little spar started, does Arulas end it. At the precise moment, both lightsabers interlock does he conjure as much of the force as he can before letting out an all encumbering display of force. From all angles around him does he expel the mysterious entity, sending Chani soaring through the air only to land hard on the grassy earth. Upon impact she fails to remain in control of her saber which falls from her grasp, extinguishing itself the instant she no longers holds it.

Righting himself after the show of force, Arulas lets his body fall into a sense of calm with the hum of his saber aiding it. “Hm, you show promise. Though Niman is not for you, you fail to master half of the strengths of the form and leave yourself open because of it. Whatever reason your former master chose it for, his reasons were flawed. Forget whatever that fool taught you, it’ll only hinder your growth.” His words carry over the newly found distance with ease.

Chani holds her gut as she pushes herself to her feet, only slightly hurt apart from the gaping wound in her pride. Not even trying to cause a fatal blow to her, Arulas outmatches her in pure skill, but that’s not the worst of it. He wasn’t smiling through the entire thing, he was beyond calm and that is what really annoys her. Every duel they had on Coruscant, Arulas was smiling and laughing as they fought, a lack of care about his well being.

‘Is this sense of calm he exudes him trying or is he simply so strong that he doesn’t need to try to evaluate me?’ Chani thinks to herself, holding her hand out to the lightsaber on the grass a few feet away from her.

The lightsaber slowly reacts to her use of the force, but just as it is about to reach her hand it arcs away and flings itself into Arulas open palm. “You want to kill me right now don’t you?” He smiles sadistically at his apprentice, offering the lightsaber back to her free from his grip. However, she sneers at his claim and keeps a hand over her gut. “A shame, but you’ll want to one day. Anyhow, shall we proceed?” He nods to the lightsaber as a subtle gesture to take it back from his grip, which reluctantly Chani does, allowing it to soar into her free hand. “Good, now, Shii-Cho. Let us see if you need a refresher.”

The air fills with musky darkness as Arulas and Chani both re-enter their battle stances, lunging at one another without so much as a thought. Meeting in the centre, Chani takes the first swing, her saber held by both hands to add a sense of force to her strike. With ease, Arulas blocks it, his saber simply an extension of his will, though his eyes watch her carefully. Her form tightens at the simple glare, her movements becoming more rigid from using Shii-Cho. In the next few exchanges, she blocks and parries each blow sent at her, the sheer force from the blows halting any sort of advance. For every foot she takes from Arulas, he regains another four.

After the first minute passes the two by, neither looked to have an advantage over the other. Blow for blow Chani had regained a stalemate as she does her best to use Shii-Cho to its fullest. Her last direct use of the form long behind her, though it’s base identity on show as she keeps her swordplay to a minimum, only striking when the opportunity presents itself and keeping her saber close to block and parry. In her mind, she has set up four areas where she has tried to land her strikes, the top of the arms, the knees and the head of the combatant. Though Arulas mocks her knowledge, opening himself to a strike only to contort his body out of the way.

Unlike the first duel, this one lasts for over an hour as Chani keeps her guard up and sends as much force against Arulas as she can. Her resilience brings a smile to Arulas face as he keeps his eyes ever on her and her alone. However, no training duel can last forever and her Master intends to end it swiftly. Finding one of many openings left by the rigid Jedi, he breaks through her guard and lets his free fist find her gut. The wind flies out of Chani’s stomach as the full force of the blow flows through her, her grip gone and her saber dropped to the floor.

“Use your anger, don’t repress it.” Arulas comments on his apprentices lack of ‘dark side’ acts. Letting Chani fall to her knees, he backs up to give her some space. “No matter, you seem to know Shii-Cho enough, so we can move on to-” As Arulas is about to push the training session onward, his attention is taken from his apprentice to the stretch of the thick jungle the beast he slew charged from. “Chani, arm yourself.” Without a moment going by, he uses the force to pull his secondary saber to his free hand, igniting it and flipping it into a reverse grip.

For what seems like only minutes, Arulas stares dead straight at the jungle’s edge. A sense of danger floods his senses but it doesn't deter him, keeping vigil over the area as Chani rights herself and draws her antique blade. The blades rings out as it leaves it’s sheathe, but as soon as the last cling fills the area, the jungle line sways. With no warning a wave of force flies across the gap and hits the two with a brutal strength.

* * *


End file.
